A Hundred Drabbles
by phoenix-rises-from-the-ashes
Summary: A hundred drabbles spanning the entire world of Tamora Pierce including every character character that I can fit in there and on every possible subject. R&R! Latest chapter: A conversation between Daine and Numair.
1. Someday

**About This Project: **I started this because of the boredom that summer and total freedom seems to inflict on innocent writers. I'm continuing this even though school has started because I'm having tons of fun writing this. This project is basically for me to write a hundred drabbles - which means oneshots or twoshots or threeshots under 1000 words - spanning the whole of Tamora Pierce's universe. If you have a particular drabble that you want to read then just tell me and I'll try to write it. If you don't like a particular drabble then just skip to the ever popular Kel/Dom drabbles ahead. Please read and review!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything because it all belongs to Tamora Pierce.

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**Prompt: Someday**

Yazmine of Trebond leaned against the balcony railing to gaze out at the sea. How beautiful the aqua waves frothing at the shore appeared in the fading light! How steady it was - wild and free yet reliable; changing yet unchanging for all eternity. The young woman's mouth trembled as she struggled not to cry.

"It's alright, Yazmine," murmured her husband, Sir Forthran of Seabeth and Seajan, wrapping his arms around her lean body. "There will be other girls; other girls who dream of fighting and defending their country."

"But the King has forbidden lady knights forever," Yazmine whispered as her dark eyes filled with tears. "He's changed so much in this month, ever since Aline died." Her mouth quivered. "When he spoke to me it was as if _I _were to blame for what happened to Aline - as if I don't berate myself day and night for what I could have done." Her voice cracked. "I think he wishes me dead so that there will be no more lady knights to remind Tortall of what used to be. How can he destroy the dreams of so many? How can he forbid girls to take up arms?"

"It'll be alright," Forthran repeated soothingly. He gently kissed her cheek. "Laws are laws and kings are kings, but when all is said and done, dreams and hopes can never and will never be destroyed. The King has forbidden girls to try for knighthood or even to become a warrior, and most girls will lose all the will to fight against this injustice and try for a shield, that is true. But there will be one girl - a girl touched by the Goddess - who has spirit and courage and will risk everything for her shield."

"How do you know all this?" Yazmine asked softly. "I want to believe it...but..."

"Because I of all people know that girls are not weak and silly and unfit to be warriors," returned her husband tenderly. He stroked her gleaming dark hair. "Because I know that dreams can never and will never be suppressed forever. Someday, that girl, will come, and she will give other girls the bravery they need to fulfill _their _dreams too. Someday, lady knights will once more be sung about in the ballads as great heroes - as ones who bring as much glory to Tortall as could any man."

Yazmine wrapped her fingers around Forthran's hand and gazed out at the beautiful sea - always changing yet forever remaining the same. "Someday," she whispered.


	2. Stubborn as a Mule

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! This drabble features Lady Eveline of Naxen; she's the intelligent and beautiful young daughter of Gary and Cythera of Naxen. A great friend of Alianne of Pirate's Swoop as a child she has left Tortall - and the convent - to pursue her dream as a powerful mage at the greatest magical academy of all time. Please read and review this drabble everyone!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

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**Prompt: Stubborn as a Mule**

"You will need determination to succeed."

Eveline of Naxen smiled brightly at the headmaster. "Determination I have in plenty, Master Flickerflame," she replied wryly. "Perhaps you forget, but I grew up with Sir Gareth of Naxen as my father, and I needed that determination in order to escape being a philosopher who rambles on and on about supplies for the army and how corn affects the entire country."

The headmaster hid a smile behind his hand. "I have heard of Sir Gareth of Naxen and his...interests," he replied diplomatically. "But you will need more determination to graduate from this Academy - indeed, to stay a full month here - than you ever needed with your father, child. This is Academy Nightstar, where we accept only the most talented of the mage-prodigies, and precious few foreigners. We take them in at a young age and work them to the bone until they are twenty; most get the Diamond Medallion then. The Diamond Medallion is the level higher than the regular medallion and given to very few. For those exceptionally brilliant students we award the Sapphire Medallion - the medallion given to those who are on the same level as Black Mages. But in the six years that you will spend here, you will work and work and work until you cannot possibly keep working, and go on working. Can you handle it?"

Eveline bowed gracefully and dimpled impishly. "I believe that I can, Master Flickerflame. _You _do not know how determined Father is that _someone _listen to him sometimes."

The master fought - and failed - to hide his smile. "Very well. Dismissed."

"Master Flickerflame's right, you know," commented the extremely pretty girl who came to show Eveline to her room. "And not only will the schoolwork be terribly hard, you also get the added pleasure of some - mostly male - student mages tormenting you." She glanced askance at Eveline with sparkling turquoise eyes. "Has anyone mentioned that we are an xeonphobic lot? They will make your life miserable and devote every bit of their considerable magical talent to ruining your life."

"They should devote their time and energies to studying instead," Eveline remarked calmly. "I'm sure that the boys will have better things to do than torment me. A girl named Keladry had to deal with all those "accidents" and she's a legend now." A wolfish grin that quite resembled that of her uncle Raoul flashed across her delicate features. "If those boys mess with me, they will regret it. Passionately."

The girl stared at Eveline. "You're as stubborn as a mule - aren't you?"

"And proud of it," Eveline retorted. "I have much better fashion sense than a mule though - haven't you noticed?" Her eyes sparkled. "And if those boys choose to mess with me, they will find that _this_ mule has all the talents of a lady of Court, especially in the matter of breaking hearts." She giggled and stretched out her hand. "I'm Eveline of Naxen."

The girl smiled and shook Eveline's slender hand. "I have a feeling that I'm going to hear that name a lot these next few weeks," she commented dryly. "Screamed and bellowed. My name is Kore fa Chemain. Friends?"

Eveline grinned. "Best friends."


	3. Pet Names

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and a special thanks to "brighteyes". Here's a Kel/Dom drabble for you! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I really hate to admit it but I actually do not own anything.

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**Prompt: Pet Names**

Keladry of Mindelan has never liked pet names. They are far too sappy and sentimental and just too weird for her sensible and down-to-earth self. So of course she objects forcibly whenever any address her as anything beside Keladry or Kel or Mindelan or Lady Knight. Even "Protector of the Small" still annoys her.

Some people don't listen. They go ahead and call the young woman pet names anyway.

They learn not to only when a knife is placed at the bridge of their noses and a fearsome glare is leveled their way_. Some people_.

Kel did put up with Cleon's teasing pet names because she knows that they are a result of his sense of humor. Besides, Cleon is a giant, and when she was ten years old, he was a _big _giant. And she needed all the friends she could get. Not to mention she wasn't a wizard with a sword and lance then either.

But now that she's a lady knight and a heroic legend, you had better learn - and learn quickly - that Kel hates pet names. She _hates_ them. Got it? Good. Your life may depend upon your knowing that fact one of these days.

So when Domitan of Masbolle strolls into Hope's mess hall calling, "Pearldrop of my heart, you are a balming sight for sore eyes," Kel immediately resolves to sharpen her sword and regrets the fact that she left her shukusen upstairs in her room. She could have played a nice game of catch with him otherwise.

Better yet, she resolves to meet Dom alone some cold, dark night. Armed.

Unfortunately for Kel - but fortunately for Lord Raoul - she accidentally chances on Dom in the gardens that very night. _Unarmed._

Blast.

It is very hard for a young woman to kill someone without a knife, particularly if aforementioned young woman is presently being embraced and kissed fervently by an extremely handsome young man. Who leaves the young woman weak at the knees.

Blast again.

But then, Kel reflects virtuously, it is not really _her_ fault. After all, if she hurt Dom, she would have to deal with one very angry Raoul. Even armed, she would not look forward to _that_ encounter. Even as a lady knight, _he's_ still a _big_ giant.

So she tells herself, as Dom wraps his arms around her and murmurs sweet nothings in her ear, so that her heart pounds against her chest. She accepts them and returns them in turn.

It simply proves that love makes fools of us all.

After all, even Nealen of Queenscove would have to admit that, "Diamond of my soul," and "Goddess of exquisiteness," and "Lovely Aphrodite", are just a little _too_ extravagant.


	4. Who is He?

A/N: Bit of background information: Koralin "Kore" fa Chemain is the youngest daughter of an extraordinarily prominent and wealthy Duke and has inherited his magical talents. For more information about Kore go to the drabble "Observers." I quite like how I linked the two - you'll get if if you read it!

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed: I still don't own anything.

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**Prompt: Who is He?**

"Who in Mithros's name is _he_?"

Kore turned to look at where her friend gestured; her mouth quirked in amusement and her eyes sparkled. "_He_ is the best student at the Academy and a year above us. That's Niklaren Goldeye - he took that name last year after he whizzed through all the exams - he's the son and heir of the Duke of Aranu. Niklaren's fifteen and already every ruler in the lands are angling for for his magical talents. He's got incredible talents _and_ tons of raw power."

Eveline gazed at the young man and smiled impishly. "He's _very_ handsome," she remarked.

"Don't get your hope up," advised her friend kindly. "Every girl at the Academy is after him; he's fabulously wealthy, extraordinarily intelligent and powerful, courteous, sophisticated, and utterly charming. He doesn't even look at them twice. If you ask me, it's going to take someone really special to win _him_ over."

Eveline laughed. "I don't want to chase him, Kore!" she protested. "I was just making a simple observation. So...he's a really good student and mage?" she murmured, still looking at the handsome young student.

"My dear girl," replied Kore with exaggerated patience. "He is the _best_ student. He's diligent and precocious and the darling of all the teachers. They're always saying that he needs someone closer to his magical level to push him to work at his fullest potential - but no one has come even close."

Eveline's mouth curled wryly. "Good. I plan on giving him a little competition."


	5. I Am Sorry

A/N: I am the sort of girl who edits and edits and edits away instead of writing new material; that's what I'm doing now. But just to make this drabble perfectly crystal clear: there is _no _romance intended in this drabble whatsoever. People can be friends without crushing on each other! But a question: who is more appealing - Dom or Joren?

Disclaimer: Own nothing at all except my own opinion.

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**P****rompt: I Am Sorry**

Alanna knelt beside the bed. "Francis?" she whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," came the weak reply. "Are you still well, Alan?"

Alanna glanced guiltily at her friend; but there was nothing to be discerned in her friend's blue eyes except concern. Her guilt multiplied. "I'm fine. Would that you were so as well. Are you getting better?"

Francis's cracked lips curved up in a small smile. "I don't think so," he answered softly. "The most skilled healers are attending the ; I hope that she gets better, or the realm will have lost a great lady." There was no bitterness or irony in his voice.

"I...Francis..." Alanna stared at her friend's waxy white skin, at the dullness of his once bright golden hair, at the pain in his pure blue eyes, at the blood oozing from a cut in his lip. Her friend was so ill...

Should she use her Gift? She had more magic than most healers did even at full strength; Alanna knew that she probably had better training too. And she had all her energy. What should she do? If she was sure that she could help Francis at all then of course she would do it in a heartbeat. But how was she to know that she wouldn't do harm - perhaps even kill her friend? If she lost control of her Gift, she would die, as would anyone around her. Alanna bit down hard on her quivering lip. No. She had to forsake her Gift - she couldn't control it. She recalled her father's voice, "The Gift is accursed. Use it and you will get more pain than you would have otherwise, by tenfold." _No_. She wouldn't let that happen to Francis because of her.

"You must leave now, Page Alan," ordered the imperious healer of mediocre talent who had just entered. "Francis of Nond needs rest."

Alanna hesitated; warring with herself inside. "Perhaps I could help...I have the Gift?"

"No," the man replied firmly. "You'll probably kill him."

"Alan?" Francis's voice was faint. He stretched out a trembling hand and Alanna instinctively clasped it tightly. "Come here for a moment." Alanna sank back to her knees beside his bed. "Alan," he whispered so quietly that only she could hear him. "I bid you luck in your quest to become the first lady knight in over a century. Don't give up - I know that you can do it."

Alanna stared down at her friend. "I-I'm so sorry, Francis..." And she was. Sorry that she had lied and deceived him. Sorry that she was too weak to control her Gift. Sorry that she couldn't help him. Sorry that they couldn't have had more time to be friends.

"Come!" the healer now sounded extremely annoyed. "_Out_!" He grabbed Alanna's free hand and attempted to drag her away.

Alanna squeezed Francis's thin hand one last time. "I'm sorry, Francis. I'm sorry."


	6. Oops

Disclaimer: I don't own anything so please don't sue.

A/N: Thank you to all the wonderful people who reviewed! You guys are awesome! Everyone else - I got 323 views and only 15 reviews? Come on! You can do better than that! Remember to keep telling me your fav pairings or potential drabbles you'd like to read! On another subject, I apologize for not replying to everyone's reviews. I shall do so now and I beg everyone's forebearance.

orishgoddess: Thank you so much for being the first to review! I thought it would be an interesting way to start the drabbles - TP's books are mainly based on girls - with the last lady knight's hope that someday in the future girls would also be sung about as great heroes. I like Joren AND Dom. Plus, Niko is really cool. Thx so much for reviewing!

brighteyes: Thank you. LOL - that would be interesting. I'll try to put one up on that pairing.

imakeladrygirl: Thx for reviewing! I have a soft spot for Dom/Kel too. Hope you like this one.

Starzgirl: As of now I hate pet names. But if in the future a certain _someone _calls me a pet name, I certainly won't object. Unfortunately, I have no idea who that someone is right now. LOL. Cleon isn't my fav character either. Thank you for reviewing!

a: Thank you for your kind words. Won't you tell me your username?

Daughter of Nature: Thank you. Why does everyone hate Joren? so sad! Oh well. I have plenty more Dom/Kel fics. Try: Four Snapshots of Dom's Life. I wrote it for LJ and it's also KD.

Icelands: I'm glad you like it. Thank you for reviewing (this fic as well as my Tamara story). I'm currently stuck on my SS story so I switched to this. BTW I wrote another SS oneshot tho. Lovely Disaster has a great start! Love it. Niko rules!

Darking Girl: Thank you for your praise/review. Please continue reviewing my drabbles. I have style? I had no idea.

And now: ENJOY & REVIEW!

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**Prompt: Oops**

Nealen of Queenscove dashed into the royal library and grabbed a thick book from a nearby shelf. Draping his slim form against a bookshelf, he began to leaf casually through the book. For once the beautifully drawn words held no meaning - in fact, he couldn't even comprehend the letters on the page.

_Love is playing with my heart,_ he thought with a sigh. _I must win my beauty's heart._

A soft rustle of silken skirts brought his head up quickly. Lady Yukimi, looking wonderful in a silk dress of emerald green trimmed with silver thread, entered the library gracefully. Neal watched covertly from behind his book as the lady glanced swiftly at him. Blushing red to the ears, Neal ducked behind his book. _How beautiful she looks in her green gown, like the Great Mother Goddess, like Diana of the Hunt, like Juliet from that play by William of Shaken Speare. Her eyes shine like diamonds; her ears are so perfectly shaped; her ruby-red, luscious lips - _

"Sir Nealen?" came said lady's melodic voice. Yuki looked particularly beautiful: her long dark hair was styled into curls that brushed against her shoulders, her creamy skin was smooth and glowing, and her long-lashed dark eyes bright with amusement and laughter.

"Y-yes, my lady?" Neal stuttered. _Mithros, her voice is sweeter than that of nightingales. Hey - that would make a good poem! Yuki of Yamani - her talent are many; with a voice sweeter than a nightingale - _

"Unless you would rather engage in another pasttime, in which case I would understand completely, should you care to take a stroll with me in the gardens? I am afraid that I do not know my way about the palace so well yet."

Neal - still holding his book - made one of his fantastic bows. "It should be my pleasure, gracious lady," he replied. "Indeed, I pined every minute of this day, waiting for the pearls of pleasure to emerge from your lips."

Yuki's dark eyes danced with laughter as she flicked her beautiful fan over her face. "I noticed," she replied wickedly. "Sir Nealen, your book is upside-down."


	7. A Rocky Start

Disclaimer: Don't own anything so please don't sue.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and please continue reviewing. Kally/Kaddar is an interesting pairing. Next drabble features Eveline of Naxen and a certain smooth-tongued, posh, sophisticated, Emelan noble/mage. Gee, I wonder who it can be?

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**Prompt: A Rocky Start**

Kaddar threw up his hands in exasperated defeat. "Mithros!" he cried. "What in Mithros's name do you want me to say?" The attractive young Carthaki emperor - so skilled at diplomacy and so perfectly controlled - had reached his breaking point. "What can I do so that you will stop cursing me to the Black God's kingdom - by the way, his daughter the Graveyard Hag is my patron, so don't get any ideas, please - what can I do to appease you?"

The cause of the emperor's exasperation glared back at him fiercely. "Nothing!" Princess Kalasin of Conte hurled back angrily. "Nothing!" Kalasin's blue eyes flashed as she bit her trembling lip to keep from crying.

Kaddar ran his fingers distractedly through his hair. "At the betrothal ceremony you seemed nice. A bit too quiet, but sweet and friendly. Now, you seem entirely changed. What have I done wrong to anger you so?"

"What have you done wrong?" Kally laughed bitterly. "Besides ruining my dream of being the second lady knight, besides taking me away from my family, besides provoking me to anger the very day I arrive in Carthak? What have you done? I have no idea. My father forced me to be pleasant to you, you know! I-I _hate_ you!"

Kaddar flinched. "I'm sorry that you hate me so," he replied quietly. "But as neither of us have any choice in this marriage and will have to live with each other for the rest of our lives, can we please try to be more pleasant to each other? I don't demand your love, but I would like it very much if I don't have to hide all my weapons every night before I go to sleep every night. If we can't love each other, can we at least try to be friends?"

Tears rolled down Kally's face. "I'm sorry that I was so harsh," she whispered. "It's just, all my life I've wanted to be a knight, and when my father told me I was to marry for his politics instead...I-I'd like it if we were friends...I-I'm sorry..."

Kaddar hesitated, then gently took the weeping girl into his arms. "I'm sorry that your dreams were not brought to life," he murmured. "But I'll try to make life in Carthak as pleasant as possible. You can go where you please - roam the palace, bury yourself in the library, ride for as long as you want. You don't have to give up fighting entirely - you're welcome to join my friends and I in sword and archery practice if you wish."

Kally sniffed and wiped her eyes, leaning against Kaddar. "Won't your friends laugh at me?"

The emperor laughed softly. "Daine took care of that for you years ago," he replied tenderly. Kaddar did love Kalasin very much - despite her prickly temper, she was sweet and funny, spunky and intelligent, and Kaddar was quite sure that he loved Kalasin deeply.

"Thank you," Kally told him softly. "So we can be friends?"

"Friends," Kaddar replied, concealing his disappointment admirably, and Kally - not that her anger had cooled - felt a pang of disappointed pain in her heart.

But perhaps it was for the best, for there is no love without first friendship and trust, and love that endures and lasts despite obstacles in barriers in its way will be yet stronger and deeper and truer. For in a matter of a month, anyone who calls Kally and Kaddar "just friends" seriously needs to go to Duke Baird or Zamid Hetnim - unless you're Nealen of Queenscove, in which case it is only to be expected.


	8. First Meeting

A/N: Thank you SO much to everyone who took the time to review and make me happy. Everyone else please start/continue reviewing: these reviews mean a lot to me. I find out what people like about these drabbles and what they don't like. Plus I feel like I'm actually doing something interesting, not wasting my time. On another note - here's Numair!

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**Prompt: First Meeting**

Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau blinked in astonishment as an arrow whistled past her ear. At least forty armed men on stallions charged out of the dense forest. Many of them blazed with magical Gift; still others held handfuls of bright magical fire.

George Cooper cursed. "Lass! Wake up!" He cried out as an arrow sliced his shoulder.

Alanna's eyes rounded and blazed. How dare these barbarians try to hurt her and George? Wrenching her blade from its sheath, she urged Moonheart - Moonlight's daughter - on angrily. She swung her blade at a passing man and drove it through his abdomen. Pulling her blade from the dead body, she parried just in time the ringing blow that came from above.

George's cry of pain roused her. Still duelling with her opponent, she glanced around and saw him fighting desperately with a mage. His perfectly thrown knives simply bounced off the mage, who was taking great delight in hurling the knives right back at him. Magical fire gleamed at his fingertips as he hurled it at the Baron.

Alanna shrieked her anger, pouring out her Gift in raw magic. The men felt it - some died at once, others shuddered and fell from the saddle, only to be trampled by their horses. But - as a finely aimed blast of magic hit her squarely in the chest, making her gasp in pain - Alanna's heart sank. Despite what she had done, _they were losing_.

A particularly vicious mage advanced on her. The two traded deadly blows for awhile, until the tiring mage switched to magic. Alanna was drained; the mage was fresh. The Lioness could feel her shield weakening - she also felt the shield she had used to encircle George collapsing. Another slam of magic, and her blade slipped from her fingertips. _Goddess_, she whispered in her mind, _is this to be the end of me_?

Meanwhile, a tall and thin young man hid in the shadows of the forest, debating. _They are innocent people!_ shrieked his heart. _Ozorne seemed innocent too - you don't even know them - you can't trust them! Do you _want _to be killed?_insisted his mind. He debated angrily within him, then his resolve to remain hidden and safe collapsed as he saw the young man fall from his saddle and the young woman cry out as the magical fire drove through her body.

Leaping from the shadows, he shouted a curse, pointing the whole of his magical Gift at the bandits. There was a loud _crack_ in the air, and the men all screamed their anger and fear as they discovered the blazing fires surrounding their bodies. Dropping their weapons, they fled to the security of their woods again.

He hurried over to the young man and woman. The young man was groaning, pale but conscious despite heavy loss of blood. The young woman was staggering towards him, blood pouring from her arm. "Are you two seriously hurt?" the mage asked anxiously.

Alanna looked up gratefully into the piercing black eyes of her savior. He dressed like the poorest of beggars, yet his voice was cultured and sophisticated...she dismissed her thoughts. "No, thanks to you," she replied, ripping the hem of her dress. She wound it tightly around her husband's wound, then began to work on her own wounds.

"I can take care of that." the mage gently healed the magical bruises and burns on the couple.

"Thank you," Alanna murmured. "Who are you?"

"Arram Draper," replied Arram absentmindedly, concentrating on the man's wound, then mentally slapped himself. Why in Mithros's name...

Alanna studied the man. So this was the man who had defied Ozorne. Gripping the man's wrist hard, she smiled fiercely. "I'm Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, King's Champion and Lioness," she replied. "And you're not going anywhere."

"Do you think you can stop me?" he demanded, pettishly despite himself.

"Are you going to leave us to bleed to death?" demanded Alanna in return. When he sighed in defeat, she relented. "Don't worry. Jon's a good king. When he meets you, you'll be astonished. You, him, George, and I are going to be very good friends, I can tell. By the way, I'm a good mage too, _Numair Salmalin_..." The wolfish way in which she grinned as she pronnounced a name not his own threw him off at first, then he gradually realized that she was promising not to tell, giving him a new name. "...the Gate of Idramm was fearful magic as well..."

Years later, Numair would still wonder how - after eluding Ozorne and countless mages for years - he had allowed himself to be willingly ensnared by a redheaded lady knight and her former-thief husband.


	9. Difficulties

Disclaimer: Don't own anything so please don't sue.

A/N: 1083 views and 33 reviews? Please review guys. By the way: who is better for our favorite redheaded lady knight - handsome and sophisticated King Jonathon or charming and witty spymaster George? Read and review as always please.

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**Prompt: Difficulties**

Alianne - formerly of Pirate's Swoop and Olau - of Crow Kingdom is quite content. She's married to a good-looking and witty man who she loves and who loves her; she has an excellent and thrilling job of being spymaster for the Copper Isles (she particularly loves catching her Da's spies and shipping 'em home - she knows her Da like presents from his lass too); she has a best friend in the kind and intelligent Dove; and many sweet and fun-loving children.

_Children_. They who make Aly happy yet despairing all at once. She's glad that her children have fun, yet she is exhausted by their energies and stubborness. _I was never that way_, she often thinks, conveniently forgetting that she was much more stubborn, energetic, argumentive, and much much _more_ resourceful.

Not to mention _she_ used to snitch her brothers' sweets while leaving their room exactly as it was.

But Aly has no empathy for her children when - after rubbing her red-gold hair with cleansing lotion - she discovers her hair sapphire-blue.

Nawat just laughs and kisses her nose, reminding her that Aly's Da had told him that her hair used to be electric blue before. "You're just a little old fashioned, Aly."

Aly immediately resolves to send a basket of snakes to her Da's bedroom and toss out a few of Nawat's old feathers. _He just doesn't understand_, she thinks with exasperation. _He still acts like a child_!

After all, what else can a Da who encourages his children to find grubs and worms to eat, search for shiny volcano rocks, and preen only when they are ready for mating be called?


	10. Convincing Da

Disclaimer: Don't own anything so please don't sue.

A/N: Not much to say. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

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**Prompt: Convincing Da**

Wyldon of Cavall lounges at his ease at his desk. He rubs his temples wearily; page training has been particularly ferocious today and he seeks nothing more than peace and quiet. Something that he's not very likely to get, he warns himself, remembering the silent promises of death spells in the eyes of Keladry of Mindelan's friends today. He really must hire a mage.

A light knock on the door sounds, and Wyldon straightens. "Come in!" he calls imperiously, praying, _Dear Mithros, please not Queenscove. Mindelan, Tasride, Stone Mountain, even Conte, just please not Queenscove._

A rustle of silken skirts announce the arrival of a young lady. Nine year-old Margarry of Cavall enters her father's study cautiously, calming her jangled nerves. _Stay calm_, she tells herself._ You won't help anyone if you mess this up due to nerves. Remember what Lady Alanna told you was at stake_!

Wyldon's eyes widen in surprise. "Margarry!" he greets his daughter with surprised pleasure. He thought his daughter was arriving next week "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, Da!" Margarry glides gracefully forward and kisses her father's cheek. "I just wanted to ask you a question."

"Ask away, my love, ask away."

"Is Keladry of Mindelan going to be allowed to stay?" Margarry winces. The question came out blunt and challenging.

Her father blinks in surprise. "Keladry of Mindelan?" he repeats, then groans mentally. _Not Margarry too_. "I haven't really thought about the probationer yet," he confesses to his favorite daughter."

"She should be allowed to stay, Da," Margarry states firmly. "I've watched the pages in the practice courts and she's as good as - better than, even - the fourth-year pages. She hits the quintain every time, she manages the fiercest of horses, she's better than everyone in unarmed combat, everyone says that she's a brilliant student, and she seems quiet and kind and chivalrous. What more could you want?"

"A - " Wyldon begins.

"Oh yes," Margarry interupts. "Of course. A _boy_. Because girls are inferior to boys. Well, I'm so sorry that you only have girls for your heirs, Da!" She flushes at the end of her speech; where were her practiced arguments? She had clean forgotten them, getting caught up by her anger. Stupid mistake.

Wyldon flinches. "You know that I love you as much as I would any boy," he replies quietly. "But this is knighthood. Females just aren't as good warriors as men - " his voice trailed off.

"Queen Thayet? Commander Buri? Sir Alanna? The Riders?" Margarry softens. "Da, I know that you mean well, and it might be the truth that boys are naturally more inclined to be knights than girls, but honestly! If Keladry has talents and brains and wits and strength equal to that of a boy, why do you not let her become a knight? It's not fair, Da. You've already put her on probation, yet she endured it silently, even though know other page has suffered so. That displays chivalry, which is the number one thing a knight needs, isn't it? If she's as good as any boy, emotionally stable, and more chivalrous than most, why not let her choose her own life? She can pick between being a Court lady and a warrior, and then your conscience will be appeased." She smiles brightly at her father.

Wyldon sighs, rubbing his temples once more. He knows when he is checked. He kisses Margarry gently on the forehead. "Very well, sweetling. Keladry of Mindelan shall - if she wishes - be allowed to stay on as a page." His brows furrow. "But _you_, my dear daughter, will not be allowed to become a knight."

Margarry smiles sweetly at her da. "I have no intention of taking up arms," she assures him.

Wyldon sighs once more - this time with relief. "Good," he replies, but his daughter is still speaking.

"I do think that Nealen of Queenscove is quite attractive though, Da."

Strangled chokes and curses are her reply.


	11. Intrigued

Disclaimer: Don't own so don't sue.

A/N: You guys rock! Thanks to all who reviewed!

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**Prompt: Intrigued**

Niklaren Goldeye looked up from his piles of work as a lovely slender young student stalked into the library. The girl personified indignant beauty: her thick and glossy golden hair flowed loosely down her back; her small fists were clenched angrily; her turquoise eyes flashed with rage. Niklaren stiffened momentarily - was this another girl after his attention and trying to divert him from his studies - then relaxed again as the mage stormed over to a table near his. Amused and perplexed, the young man watched with interest.

The girl practically _bubbled_ with anger, slamming her books down with a ferocity. "How _dare_ they!" she muttered. "This is ridiculous - honey down my back, pine cones in my shoes, my crystals smashed into pieces - those boys are going to _pay_."

Niklaren lifted an elegant brow. So this was the foreign young noble? Well, she had spunk and fire, to swear vengeance on boys he knew were singularly unpleasant - especially to foreign females. He wanted to return to his studies but found that he couldn't.

The girl flipped open her book and began reading furiously. "I'll make them pay," she muttered angrily. "In the exact way Kel did. I'll be the best in the class, _and_ they'll soon find out that _I_ can use magic too!"

The young man is more intrigued than ever. This foreigner is known to be an excellent student and a powerful mage. Niklaren can see for himself that she is powerful - and apparently, hardworking as well. He smiles. An interesting girl at last.


	12. The Thorn

Disclaimer: Don't own so don't sue.

A/N: You guys rock! Thanks to all who reviewed! Borrowed the term "the Thorn" from Crown Duel (or Court Duel). I think all SS readers can all guess what the next drabble will be called!

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**Prompt: The Thorn**

Gary of Naxen bowed elaborately to the lady and raised her gloved hand to his lips in a kiss. "Lady Roxanne," he murmured, his keen brown eyes veiled but his low voice admiring. "The roses pale in comparison to your lips." _And you certainly have a sharper thorn for a tongue than any rose_! he added inwardly, then reminded himself that ten gold nobles were at stake here, and gave the lady a charming smile. "Would you care to take a stroll in the gardens with me?"

Lady Roxanne of Elden - more commonly known as the Thorn - nodded brusquely, obviously flattered by the squire's attentions but not particularly willing to admit it. "Fine," she replied brusquely. "If I must."

The squire winced. He was going to have to kiss this holy terror? Gary sure didn't want to think about that. He was pretty sure that even Roxanne wouldn't kill Duke Gareth's son, but that wasn't very reassuring: Duke Gareth would probably skin him alive if Roxanne didn't kill him. _The things I do for money and pride_.

Once they reached the garden, Lady Roxanne turned on Gary, hands on hips. "Alright, Gareth, we're at the garden. What do you want?"

"I only wanted to admire your beauty by moonlight, but I find that the moon dulls in comparison to your radiance," murmured Gary in a silken voice. He could swear that a blush appeared on Lady Roxanne's cheeks. Taking his advantage - and praying to Mithros that they would find his will later - he moved closer to the lady.

Unfortunately, he tripped on a pebble and stumbled forward toward Lady Roxanne so that his mouth accidentally bumped against hers, before he crashed into her and they both tumbled to the ground, Gary still on top of Lady Roxanne.

The said lady screamed and slapped him hard on both cheeks. "You - you _dog_!" she screamed, whacking him as hard as she could, struggling to sit up. "Get OFF of me!"

A blush suffused Gary's cheeks as he hastily sprang up and offered the lady his hand. She grabbed it and hoisted herself up, then slapped him hard again. Gary groaned inwardly. He was never going to live this down.

_At least I'll get the gold nobles._


	13. The Flower

Disclaimer: Don't own so please don't sue. The names "the Thorn" and "the Flower" belong to Sherwood Smith.

**Prompt: The Flower**

When Gary of Naxen got wind of the news that a second Elden daughter would grace the royal staircase he actually set down his philosophy book - _imagine_! He groaned loudly. "Nooo! Wasn't _one_ Roxanne of Elden enough?"

Alexander of Tirragen grinned; black eyes twinkling. "Care for another bet?"

Gary glared at him. "After what happened _last_ time?" He flushed even to remember the horrible embarrasment that Roxanne, his friends, and his father had inflicted on him. "Not a chance, Alexander of Tirragen!" he declared. "The girl's bound to be a _nightmare_!"

Then he actually sees the lady; sees the long, wavy, glossy white-blond hair, pale and creamy complexion, full red lips, long-lashed blue eyes, and graceful, slender form. Jon fell over laughing at the blush that adorned his cousin's cheeks and the ardorous look in his eyes.

Then Gary learns her name. _Cythera_. So beautiful and sweet-sounding; soft and gentle; easy to the lips like a sigh of the wind. _Cythera. _How can such a sweet, delicate, kindhearted, lovely girl be related to _the Thorn_?

Alan just laughed when Gary shared his thoughts. "Well, every family has a flower, and every flower has its thorns!"

Gary didn't join in the laughter. He merely smiles benevolently and walks over to Cythera, offering his hand in the next dance. As he holds the exquisite girl in his arms as they dance, he raves inwardly over her slender neck, her perfect brows, her small ears, the way her long golden lashes curl upward. He barely realizes that his friends will _never _let him live it down.

He just might take Alex up on his offer though.


	14. Danger

Disclaimer: Don't own so please don't sue.

A/N: Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed! But guys, 2100 something people read my story, and only 56 of them bothered to review? Please start/continuing reviewing!!!! SS readers, check out my new stories. I'm sorry if this one's a bit boring, but I had to introduce Niko and Eveline. The next one will be better - promise.

**Prompt: Danger**

"Niklaren, Keith, Kore, and Eveline. You four will form one group and patrol the mountains." The Master's calm voice did nothing to disguise his worry. Rumor of bandits had become so numerous that it was hard to think it but talk, and it was in the rules that mages-to-be were sent to patrol to practice their power. "Do be careful - the area is dangerous."

The four nodded obediently and set out quickly. None of them really expected bandits to be so close to a place of magic - they were wrong. Noting the signs of wealth on the teenagers' clothing, the bandits charged out, prepared to strip the students of their wealth and kidnap them.

Niklaren uttered a quick spell that stopped the first few men in their tracks. Keith quickly sent up a signal for help. Kore began to murmur protection spells, while Eveline hurled the war magic she had learned into spells at the bandits. At first, the spells hit their targets and the bandits howled in pain or collapsing to the ground. But a shaman showed up and began muttering spells, countering their magic fiercely. Kore fell first - a spell hit her hard in the ribs.

Angrily, Keith advanced on them, hands outstretched and glowing with magic. As five men fell before him, he failed to note the one behind him until a sword jabbed through him. He cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground.

Panicking, Eveline looked at Niklaren. He looked pale and wan, drained from using so much war magic all at once. "Niklaren, what do we do?" she asked frantically, trying to hold the protective barrier around them.

Niklaren was turner paler and paler. "I don't know," he replied jerkily. "Kore and Keith are in the middle of their ranks - we can't leave them behind!"

Eveline glared angrily at the bandits, then conjoured up a _naginata._ Remembering what Keladry had taught her, she grabbed the glaive in both hands and swung, lopping off the heads of five men in one go. Advancing on the shaman, she drove her glaive through his body like a spear before he could utter a spell. The man swayed and fell - dead.

The girl staggered as well. She dropped her weapon and vomited. Vomited and vomited and vomited. She had killed - taken a life. Shaking with emotion, Eveline was almost thankful when a blade drove through her skin and made her collapse into darkness.

Niklaren caught the girl quickly and slit her would-be killer's throat angrily, pushing away his disgust and hatred of killing. They had to get out of this mess! Grabbing up Eveline's naginata, he managed to do away with most of the bandits. Thankfully, reinforcement mages arrived quickly and dealt with the rest swiftly.

Later, in the hospital wing, Niklaren pushed back Eveline's damp hair from her face. _More than a lovely face then_, he observed. _And more than just school smarts_. _She's brave and courageous and fiery._

Niklaren tries to ignore the surge of something deeper than admiration in his heart. _I'm getting a cold,_ he told himself firmly. _Or perhaps a headache._


	15. Excuses, Excuses

Disclaimer: I don't own anything because everything belongs to the genius Tamora Pierce.

A/N: Just a confirmation; I do believe that Emelan and Tortall are in the same world. I believe that they have different gods just as we in this world all believe in different religions. The difference in magic is merely something strange. Besides, I like my Niko and Eveline stories. Sorry I haven't updated in a long time, but I was watching Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix yesterday and that took up quite a lot of time. Is anyone else excited for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? Thank you all for reviewing! Please read and review and enjoy!

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**Prompt: Excuses, Excuses**

"Mindelan. Queenscove." Lord Wyldon's voice was cold and precise and clipped.

"My lord." Kel executed a flawless bow despite her bloody nose and black-and-blue bruised cheekbone; her bruised face was smoothly impassive. Lord Wyldon made a mental note to forbid any pages with Yamani training/origins; they were just too difficult to intimidate.

"My lord St - I mean, my lord Wyldon." Neal grinned and chose not to bow; his right arm dangled uselessly by his side.

"Would the two of you mind explaining just how Stone Mountain and Runnerspring ended up being carted to the healers' wing?"

"How would we know that, milord?" Kel wanted to know. "We're not exactly friends with them."

"We just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time," chimed in Neal, green eyes round with innocence.

"Explain the bruises, Mindelan," Wyldon ordered. He attempted to stare down the girl, but she merely returned his gaze with a blank, emotionless stare. He shuddered and quickly looked away; how could his prized student fight someone with a gaze like a dead fish?

"Well, milord," Kel mumbled, trying to stall for time. An image of her sisters flashed in her mind and her hazel eyes glinted. Both Wyldon and Neal held their breaths; Kel's eyes were _not_ suppose to glint. "I was trying on a dress my mother sent to me, dark blue-violet satin, with little jewels adorned on it - "

"The bruises, Mindelan, the bruises!" Wyldon snapped. This was as bad as listening to his daughters beg for new dresses.

"Well..." Kel paused for dramatic effect. "I just thought that I needed a little make-up to match my dress, but I had run out of black-and-blue. So I decided to get some." She rubbed her cheekbone, wincing. "Pity I couldn't have gotten some free eye shadow as well."

Wyldon blinked at her, then reminded himself that if he killed this girl, the Lioness would come after her - King Jonathon or no - and Wyldon did _not_ find missing limbs attractive. Forcing down his temper, he replied, "I see. Queenscove?"

"There's to be a Midwinter ball, milord," Neal replied with a striaght face. "And the ladies all find marks of courage attractive."

It took several deep breaths and the realization that Margarry would kill him if he harmed this "good-looking, charming, funny" idiot to prevent Wyldon from reaching for his sword. "This is a mark of idiocy, Queenscove," he rapped.

Neal grinned. "The ladies don't have to know that, milord. But don't fret and stew in jealousy - I'm sure that your wife will save at least one dance for you even if my broken arm is so much more attractive than yours. Well, if you wear that ugly shirt, I can't make promises..."

Wyldon turned a beet red. "I don't understand how my daughter finds you attractive!" he cried in exasperation.


	16. Loneliness

Disclaimer: I don't own anything because everything belongs to the genius Tamora Pierce.

A/N: Thank you to all my lovely reviewers! Please forgive me for not updating for such a long time - my computer would _not_ cooperate and then Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows came out. Three cheers for JKR - although I must admit I cried a lot when I found out that HE had died - HE was awesome and he should NOT have died! Okay here's a character sketch on MY Niklaren Goldeye: vain, intelligent, generous, with too much zeal in protection for those he loves, powerful, handsome, a teeny tiny bit arrogant, and slow to anger - although his rare anger is great. As for Eveline, she is a beautiful, intelligent, kindhearted girl who has a flaming temper, sharp tongue, a stubborness that might get her killed one day, and a wicked sense of humor.

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**Prompt: Lonely**

Niklaren leaned against the railing of the balcony and sighed softly; he really hated parties. The young man was tall and very slender, with long, glossy black hair framing his pale, handsome face. His nose was long and straight, his mouth soft and sensitive, and his cheekbones high and sharp. His dark grey eyes were almond-shaped and long-lashed; they gazed out unseeing at the night. The girls ogling him from inside the ballroom were all giggling and whispering excitedly; to ask _the_ Niklaren Goldeye to dance! This was definitely a benefit of the Academy's many social functions, held so that heirs could meet and form relationships! All the girls wanted to but didn't dare ask Niklaren - he had smiled, flirted, and danced with the most popular, beautiful girls at school, then left them and went outside.

So they were outraged when the Tortallan girl Eveline moved past their giggling ranks and joined the young man. "Why aren't you inside, dancing?" she asked with a careless smile. "There are plenty of girls drooling over you who would love to dance with Niklaren Goldeye."

"That's exactly it," he replied quietly. "They want to dance with Niklaren Goldeye - not with me. It's pathetic; a game played at Court - I came here to avoid Court and I find that it ensnares me wherever I go!" Exasperation laced his voice.

Eveline laughed softly. "These games are played everywhere, Master Niklaren, and I will assure you right now, if you could see my cousin Kalasin you would be falling all over yourself to ask her to dance." She doesn't mention the look of utter loneliness in his eyes when he looked at the room filled with laughing, dancing people. "You are popular and well-resepcted," she remarked. "Why not join in the fun?" She flashed a smile. "Even the xenophobically-feared like me have had fun, dancing and stuff. Join us!"

But the young man shook his head. "I'll never belong," he replied with a mixture of sadness and amusement. "No matter how hard I try."

His companion widened her eyes at him mock-incredulously. "What is this I hear? Niklaren Goldeye - mage extraordinaire, the most popular, intelligent, powerful, and sought-after young man in the Academy - I assure you, my uncle Jon would be quite jealous of you - doesn't belong?"

Niklaren had to smile at that. "It's not that I'm not accepted," he tried to explain, fumbling for words. "It's more like that people respect me to the degree that whenever I am in their presence they are either stiff and polite, fawning and quite pathetic, or challenging and angry. I'm never "one of the crowd", to use slang. At Court I am a mage trained with commoners, amongst mages I am a noble, among commoners I am a mage, and among here - " he gestured around " - I am the youngest - Black robe, I think would be your equivilant - in living memory."

Eveline's teasing smile faded and a strange emotion passed over her face. "You're lost, aren't you?" she asked softly.

The man turned away from her. "I guess you could put it that way," he replied woodenly. "I don't even know why I'm telling you all this - okay, forget it, please?"

But the young noble moved forward and touched his arm lightly. "Everybody gets lost sometimes, Niklaren," she told him gently. "Sometimes we just need someone to help us find the way back. You don't _have_ to be feared and respected and never truly _accepted_ all your life."

He looked down into her wide eyes and sincere smile, then shrugged. "Then what would you suggest that I do?"

Cythera and Gareth of Naxen's daughter swept a deep curtsy. "I would suggest that you go back inside before your nose freezes off - it might affect your looks. Talk to people - not as a mage to mage, but as an equal to an equal - in a friendly way. Talk to me, or Kore, or Ferdy, or Tom, or Kalina or whomever, but actually _mingle. _Can you do that?"

Niklaren grinned. "I think that I can wrangle it," he replied. "But first..." he made an elaborate, flourishing bow, and took Eveline's hand. "Would you care to dance?"

Eveline giggled. "Sure," she replied with another curtsy, ignoring the shrieks of anger and dismay of the girls watching. "I would be honored."


	17. I Want Him Back!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything because everything belongs to the genius Tamora Pierce.

A/N: Two drabbles in one day - I'm getting pumped up again! Bring it on! Okay in Harry Potter like SOOOO many of my fav characters died! They got together and they died together - how tragic is that? Plus HIM! Come on people, you KNOW who I'm talking about! Memory-giver! He died! Grr. Okay, anyway, back to the drabbles. BTW I'm posting another fic - a Harry Potter one, on the four founders. I think that it's going to be very good and I'd appreciate it if people checked it out. Probably going up tomorrow, so please read and review that too, if you have time! Thank you to everyone, and now on with the drabbles!

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**Prompt: I Want Him Back!**

"But _why_ not?" demanded Mithros as he ran a hand through his black curls. "_Why_ not?"

The Great Mother sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples. Honestly, at times like these, it was hard to remember that her brother was actually a very powerful god - actually, times like these, it was hard to remember that her brother was a god at all. She looked at him; his lips stuck out in a petulant pout, his eyes round with childish injustice. Was this really the brother who had aided her in getting rid of Kyprioth?

"_Whyyyyyyi_? demanded Mithros again. "I want him back!"

Forcing herself to be patient, the Goddess explained, "Alanna needs the cat a bit longer, you see, because Duke Roger's going to be a very tricky obstacle indeed. After Alanna has fulfiled her tasks and the cat has done his job, _then_ you can have your pet back." How had the cat borne her brother for so long?

Mithros pouted pathetically. "It's not fair," he complained. "You always use my stuff! First you lend Cat to that Beka Cooper girl because she _needs_ him, then you lend the Cat to that Yazmine lady because she _needs_ him, and now you stole Cat from my rooms and gave him to this Alanna person because she _needs_ him. Why can't you just turn into a cat and help them?"

"Or I could turn _you_ into a kitten," the Goddess mused, then shoved a bar of candy into Mithros's mouth. For a time, silence fell. She thought carefully; her brother probably wouldn't permit her sneaking off the cat - honestly, a cat named _Cat_ - to another girl, so she would have to find something else.

"I want him back!" cried Mithros again, wiping the candy smears from his mouth and onto his sleeve. "I WANT HIM BACK!"

One day the Goddess's patience would snap. One day, she would confine Mithros into the shape of a bird for a few years, a bird that just _happened_ to befriend Keladry of Mindelan and be named Crown. Well, it was better than Cat.


	18. Truth or Dare 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything because Tamora Pierce is the author of these books.

A/N: Thank you so much to all of my lovely reviewers – it sounds tacky and cliché and all that other junk but they really do inspire me to write. I know that this drabble probably isn't the most original one out there but I had fun toying with the idea anyway. This is only the first part of what I want – if you guys want it – of a series of little drabbles. If anyone wants me to write a drabble on anything just say the word! On another note, anyone who reads and reviews my Harry Potter story on the Founders of Hogwarts will get online hugs and my gratitude! I really want to continue this story and the Hogwarts one, but please don't make me feel pathetic – read and then press the button at the bottom of the page! Anyway, on with the drabbles!

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**Prompt: Truth Or Dare**

"Truth or Dare?" Kel asked her best friend with a devilish smile.

Neal paused to think for a moment – everyone remember to breathe; it _is_ astounding that Meathead actually _thought_! "Truth," he replied warily.

"How many girls have you tried to woo, and how many have you rejected?" Kel asked.

Everyone laughed; somehow a witch turned Neal's head into a tomato. "Um…" he began counting his fingers, then counting his toes. Then he looked up. "I've run out of fingers and toes!" he protested.

Dom sighed. "Borrow mine, Meathead."

Finally, Neal replied, "I've wooed twenty, thirty-eight have rejected me." 

Roald choked on his laughter. "How does that work out?"

Neal scratched his head. "Well…some of the girls rejected me when their friends did…"

Of _course_, everyone laughed uproariously at this. "Very nice," replied Roald as he clutched his stomach. "Very nice, Meathead."

Neal glared. If looks could kill, King Jonathon and Queen Thayet would have had to call Kalasin from Carthak – and her lovely emperor – to be heir of Tortall. Luckily, looks could _only_ kill if you were Niklaren Goldeye, Numair Salmalin, Thom of Trebond, or Duke Roger of Conte. Furthermore, two of the above are dead and one is on the other side of the world. Again, luckily for Roald.

Just in case Neal's looks _did_ kill, Kel quickly intervened. "Neal, it's your turn. Ask someone."

Neal was silent for a moment, and then turned to his cousin. Dom grew very nervous and he rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. Deciding to stay on the safe side, he mouthed "_Bed-wetter Meathead_" to his cousin, who turned once more into a tomato. However, this only infuriated Neal more. "Dom, truth or dare?"

Dom knew that if he said truth Neal would ask him about his crush on Kel, and he did not – _not_ – did everyone to know about that. Besides, what could Neal do to him? "Dare."

If only he knew. Even harmless things can be dangerous if riled.

Neal grinned wickedly. "I dare you to kiss Kel on the mouth," he told everyone.

Catcalls and whistles erupted; Merric laughed; Faleron whistled appreciatively; Cleon looked ready to contemplate strangulation, but everyone ignored Cleon; Owen clapped his hands together and cried, "Jolly! Jolly!"

Dom swore silently. _Bloody hell_.


	19. Childhood Memories

Disclaimer: I still do not own anything because everything still belongs to the genius Tamora Pierce.

A/N: I have 99 reviews and I am almost to my goal of getting 100 reviews (yay!) - I must also work harder on my goal of 100 drabbles (aww). THANK YOU SO MUCH to ALL of my reviewers. You guys are awesome!Anyway online consolation hugs to everyone who was devestated (like me) by the heavy casualties in HP - including a certain redhead, a certain memory-giver, and the parents of the adorable Teddy. Can everyone interested in HP PLEASE read my HP founders fic - which I will be updating probably tomorrow - and my Scorpius, Rose, Albus, and Alianne fic - both of which I am devoted to. It would mean a lot. Anyway, about this drabble, I've wanted to do it for a long time, as I've always wondered why Niklaren is so posh, proper, or courtier-like (in want of a better word). So please READ AND REVIEW:)

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**Prompt: Childhood Memories**

"Niklaren?"

The young man looked up from his book to see a very pretty girl smiling at him. "Eveline!"

Eveline of Naxen dropped - in a very graceful way - down next to her friend. "Catch!" she tossed an old blanket at him and giggled when he started and scrambled away from the thing as if the Graveyard Hag herself was at his heels. "What's your problem?"

Niklaren was very pale. "Don't do stuff like that. The thing could be infested with fleas!"

Eveline laughed again; her eyes narrowed when she saw him mutter a cleansing spell. "Niklaren?" she asked in the soft and gentle voice she used whenever she wanted to talk to him about something personal. "What's wrong?" She patted the grass beside her. "Tell me, please."

Niklaren moved over and sat beside her again, but he was still quite pale. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" her voice was incredulous. "Niklaren, you pretty much ran away from a harmless little blanket. Tell me what's wrong, please."

He sighed. What was it about her particularly that made it so easy for him to open up - or rather, so hard to remain silent? "I...have some unplesant childhood memories," he confessed at last.

She touched his hand lightly. "About what?"

He took a deep breath. He had never told anyone what had happened - not the Provost's Guards, not even his frantic and angry parents - but if what Eveline said was right, he had to tell someone so that he could change, so that he wouldn't have to be alone all the time. "I was kidnapped when I was four years old," he began quietly and looked at his friend. Her eyes were round.

"My kidnappers were of the most gruesome kind. They forced me into a small cell that was covered with grime and dirt and waste and the most revolting..." his voice broke slightly. "They would put my food - if you can call it that - on the ground and I would have to grovel to eat it at all."

"You ate it?" Eveline was horrified. "_You ate it_?"

"There wasn't anything else for me to do," he replied hollowly. "They needed me alive to get a ransom from my father, and they would force the food down my throat. They liked covering me with the most gruesome things they could find - it was their form of entertainment. They did...other things as well, which I won't talk about..." His eyes darkened.

"When my father finally found me I was half-dead from hunger and terror and the pure revoltingness of it all. I got the fever for weeks and it seemed like a nightmare." Niklaren began to shake.

Eveline hesitated, then put her arms around the young mage, who stiffened, then relaxed slightly. "I'm sorry, Niklaren," she whispered softly. "I didn't mean to pry. I never meant to..."

"I wanted - no, _needed_ to tell someone," he replied quietly. "To explain, I guess, about why I am the way I am."

"Of course. That's why you can't stand dirt or grime and why you check all the forks and eating utensils at strange shops - they bring back the old memories, right?" Eveline knew that she was treading very dangerous ground - she was talking of things that Niklaren probably wanted to forget forever. "I'm so sorry about...you know, truly."

He smiled weakly. "I know," he answered. "Some days are worse than others and sometimes my reactions are harsher, sometimes not so much. Sometimes - now, anyway - I can suppress the memories and have fun despite myself. Sometimes I can forget and relax and enjoy myself."

"When?" Eveline asked.

Niklaren Goldeye smiled at her. "When I'm with you."

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Another A/N: Okay that was SOOO cliche but I don't care! I wanted to do that for SOOOO long. Stupid ending really but anyway. REVIEW PLEASE! 


	20. Deciduous Friends

Disclaimer: I still do not own anything because everything still belongs to the genius Tamora Pierce.

**Prompt: Deciduous Friend**

"Isas? Where are you?"

The handsome young man lifted his head silghtly from his work. "By the healing plants."

The auburn-haired young woman walked over and examined the plant. She stroked the soft leafy plant with gentle fingers. "Hmm. It looks healthy enough - is it being pruned properly though? That might interfere with the amount of power mages can draw from it."

Isas rolled his eyes. "I have been trained as long as you, Niva, and I know the elemantary procedures. I assure you, this plant is healthy and well." He mumbled something under his breath and light flared from the plant. "There." He stood up and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Want to go to the Lioness's Den for supper tonight?" Niva asked, naming their favorite eating house. "We should start working on that project." _And you look so tired; you seriously need to relax_, she added to herself, but had enough tact not to say it out loud.

Isas shook his head. "Countess Lisana invited me to an exclusive party tonight and I have to attend. I can't brush off one of the most influential ladies in the country just to spend an evening with an old friend." His words were undiplomatically blunt but honest.

Niva felt as though she had been slapped across the face. "But - you hate social events!"

He shook his head. "Countess Lisana's parties are famed throughout the Pebbled Sea. I have to go."

She tried again. "Perhaps tomorrow - "

Again the young man cut her off. "I'm meeting with the Duke tomorrow and I simply do not have the time." The clock chimed just then. "I really have to go now. I really do not have any spare time - perhaps we should give up on the project."

Niva flinched. "What? But that project is our dream?"

Isas shrugged. "Dreams die and fade away. Besides, it was always _your _dream, Niva, not mine. I think that Lord Wylin is right - deciduous plants are a nuisance. I've been thinking about how to make plants grow all year round. _That_ is my new dream."

"But that isn't right!" she protested. "But - "

He was gone, without even a goodbye to her before he left. She sank down onto a stool and buried her face in her hands. Once they had been close. Once they had shared ideas, principals, dreams. Once they had been the inseperable pair - the two mages excelling with plants. Now she was commonborn Niva, and he was the Count's son. They had grown apart. They couldn't be called best friends - could they still even be called friends? - any longer.

"Deciduous plants are fine - they never hurt me," she whispered to the empty room. "Deciduous friends do."


	21. Truth or Dare 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything because if I did Joren would never have died and Kel and Dom would have gotten together at the end of Lady Knight.

**Prompt: Truth or Dare 2**

Dom sneaked a quick glance at Kel as his face burned with embarrassment; her face was as serene and composed as ever, but a blush tinged her cheeks. He glared daggers at his cousin. "Meathead..." he began threateningly in his best Lord-Raoul-at-his-angriest voice.

Neal jumped and hastened to hide behind Roald, who smiled complacently. "Roald, don't let him hurt me!" Neal pleaded. "And you have to do it, my dear cousin Dom, because that is the point of truth or dare!"

"I hate to admit it but Neal's right," pointed out Faleron.

There was a silence. Everyone was aghast. Had Carthak frozen over? Neal was _right_?

Neal pouted. "That's not very nice! And hurry up and do your dare Dom! Kiss Kel on the _lips_!"

Dom thought furiously; there was no blasted way that he was kissing Kel in front of Meathead - alone was one thing - but anyway...Then his eyes lit up with inspiration. He jumped up and left. "Be right back!" He hurried off, ignoring Neal's mutter of, "Probably getting peppermint leaves to sweeten the deal for you, Kel." Although he did like the thunk of Meathead connecting with floor.

He returned carrying his sister's doll and kissed it lightly on the lips. "There you go, Meathead," he tossed the doll to Neal, embarrassed by the deed but relieved. "Fiona named the doll Kel, so I did my part."

Neal sputtered incoherently while Kel laughed. "You didn't specify, Neal!" she cried. "Good job, Dom!"

Dom felt his ears redden as she smiled brightly at him, but masked it by turning to Roald, who immediately became very nervous. "Prince Roald," he began with a menacing smile. "Truth or dare?" The glint in his blue eyes did _not_ bode well for Roald.

Roald held up a hand. "Dare - how much gold?" Everyone laughed at this, but Roald was deadly serious. Dare would be utter hell if Domitan of Masbolle had a finger in it, but if he had answered truth and be asked to reveal whom he had liked in page years, Kel would have a fit and everyone else would die of laughter...

But the sergeant shook his head. "Money can't get you out of this." His grin bared his teeth in a very good imitation of that of the Lioness and the Lord Provost. "If you want, you can make a will right now. No? Well then, I dare you to...

* * *

A/N: You'll have to review to find out what happens! Hope you guys like! I just came back from blueberry picking - and supplying mosquitoes with fresh supplies of blood...cracks knuckles menacingly Hope everyone's having a fantastic weekend! 


	22. What If?

Disclaimer: Still do not own anything.

**Prompt: What If?**

Thom of Trebond winces as he gazes into the mirror; the once handsome young mage is that no longer. Cracked and bleeding lips; pale and waxy skin; once-glossy red curls falling messily about his bone-white face; once sparkling violet eyes faded in color and lacking spirit. Not exactly the most enticing young courtier.

He sighs and dabs at his lips with a cloth. Alanna has tried to talk to him again, trying to persuade him to submit, to degrade himself into accepting the Master's help. After the teachers scorned him and called him an arrogant pup, he is to accept their help? He refused; it is pride, foolish pride, but pride is the only thing that he has left. Ironic that the one thing that remains - the one thing left to him - is the thing that has destroyed him.

He wonders now, what could have happened, what might have happened, had he not been so unbearably proud. Wonders just what his pride denied him, wonders just what hurt he unintentionally caused his sister, the one person dearest to him, wonders what will become of him because of this pride.

What if he had not been so arrogant to the masters at the City of the Gods? He knows that his pride is such that he never would have dreamed of condescending to be polite to the idiots who thought him a simpleton despite his masses of power, whatever his skills at acting.

What if he had not been so determined to walk with the gods? Many things would have been different.

What if he had not remained at Court after Alanna left? Might he have found peace?

What if he had not been so determined to become immortal? He smiles wryly; he would be a lot more attractive to the ladies, to be sure.

What if he hadn't allowed himself to be seduced by Delia? He would be happier, he would have the lovely young Lady Nykla as his fiance, he would have a family.

What if he hadn't brought Roger back? He would be healthier, happier, and Alanna would not be so tightly wound.

What if he actually gave in and allowed Master Si-cham and Alanna to work their magic on him, curing him of the disease that has plagued his body, sapping his body of strength and draining him off all power?

He acknowledges that thinking this in itself is a hint that his pride, his arrogance, is weakening. As if any man in his state would still have the pure insanity to be arrogant? He steeples his fingers and sighs deeply. Too many things lost, gone forever, out of his reach.

Thom of Trebond touches the light pendant around his neck, reminding him of his twin sister, his one and only true friend. For Alanna, he will do this. Give up his pride, the one thing left to him, for everything she has given up for him, for the love he bears her.

Pain suddenly shoots through his head and he falls to the floor, fire wracking his thin body.

What if he had given up his pride before it was too late?

* * *

A/N: A dark and rather angsty fic. I love angst - well, not exepriencing it - but making others (characters, not friends) experience it! I'm evil - muhahahaha - but even evil writers love getting reviews! So go on, click the little button and take a minute... 


	23. Persuasions

Disclaimer: Seriously if I owned anything I would have wrote so before now wouldn't I? I DON'T own anything.

**Prompt: Persuasions**

"I don't think people would actually _listen _to me, sir," Kel repeated for what felt like the hundreth time. Her Yamani mask felt like it was going to crack and break into a million pieces at any moment now. "I don't think King Jonathon would place anything under the _Girl_." Her hazel eyes were calm and steady, even thoguh her emotions were not.

Raoul sighed. "Keladry of Mindelan, you should listen more closely!" he complained. "Tortall is in desperate needs of good commanders like you and will not pass you up. And there are certain...ah..._persuasions_ one can use to win over a few reluctant ones." He grinned wolfishly.

Kel raised both brows. "Such as, sir?" she inquired with faultless politeness.

"Just for those last sticklers, you can mention certain..._ah..._events that are...important and personal to them. That is why it always pays to have loyals like Dom and Lerant," Raoul remarked, "Observant and popular - or just good at spying - people who tell you what's going on. Then you set about persuading the last few sticklers with tidbits of information."

Kel stared at her knightmaster, lounging casually on his chair, which groaned under the weight of Raoul, his expression angelic and innocent. "I've said it time and time before, and I'm sure I'll say it time and time again; you, my lord, are a bad man."

Raoul just laughed. "How did you get Flyndan to listen to you?" Kel wanted to know.

Raoul just looked at her innocently. "I'll never tell.

* * *

"Come on, Kel!" pleaded Raoul years later. "I do _not_ want my head bitten off by King Jonathon!"

"No, my lord," Kel replied calmly. "I must decline."

"Sir Keladry, I order you to accompany me!" Raoul cried in exasperation.

Kel grinned at him. "An order must be obeyed, unless you would like all the men to know about, oh, I don't know, a certain young knight's, um, _fervent_ participation in Lady Cythera and Sir Gareth's wedding..." her sentence trailed off as she grinned at the Commander.

Raoul's glare could have killed three giants and the bed complained loudly as he sat down hard. "You've been talking to Alanna!" he accused petulantly. "Or Buri!"

Kel grinned again. "Only using what you taught me, my lord," she replied, and bowed. "If I may take my leave?" She bowed again and left.

Leaving Raoul to mutter about unfriendly and backstabbing friends and conniving, evil squires.


	24. I'd Die Without You

Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

**Prompt: I'd Die Without You**

"How is she?" demanded Lord Alan of Trebond as he ran over several servants, maids, cats, and dogs.

The healer fluttering at his side dithered. "Well, my lord, she is as well as can be expected in circumstances..." She faltered under his glare. "Near death, my lord of Trebond."

The young man growled and shoved the woman aside as he burst into a room. Elaine lay there, pale and unconscious, a bandage wound around her arm growing red from the blood flowing from her wound. Alan swore quietly and purple sparks flew from his eyes. "Out," he whispered. The healers fled.

Purple magic flowed from his fingertips as he gently touched her arm. Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip and forehead and he strained to push the magic deeply into her battered body. The strength he had built up dissapated before he was even halfway done stopping the blood. When he turned to the inner wounds inside her he was near collapse, but he braced himself. For her, he would do anything.

"It was a stupid, crazy thing to do," Alan stated harshly to his fiance four weeks later, when she had woken up and was well enough to talk. His voice was fierce even as the pale fingers that stroked her hair were gentle.

She smiled weakly. "They needed help," she whispered, reaching up and catching Alan's hand in her own. "The bandits were killing them - "

"And they damn well killed you too, when you intervened!" he rapped out.

Elaine just shook her head, wincing. "They needed help," she repeated softly. "I had to help them."

"You nearly killed yourself, using so much magic _after_ you had gotten a major injury," he whispered fiercely. "You nearly _died_...another five minutes of delay and you _would_ have died, regardless what I - or anyone else - did." His voice cracked slightly, revealing the strain that had been on him the past month, and he turned away from her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, touching his stiff back. "I'm sorry, Alan. It was just...I _couldn't_ leave them to die. They would have died without me, and I had to help them. I'm sorry."

He turned slightly and squeezed her hand tightly, bending down and brushing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Don't do it again," he murmured. "Please. _I_ would die without you."


	25. Evil Conniving Kings 1

Disclaimer: I still do not own anything.; everything belongs to Tamora Pierce.

**Prompt: Evil Conniving Kings**

"Raoul of Goldenlake!" bellowed Jonathon as he strode up and down the hallway, not looking very kingly with his cheeks puffed out and red. "_Raoul of Goldenlake_, show yourself _now_!"

A door opened and Raoul popped his head out, wearing an angelic expression. "Anything wrong, Jon?" he asked as he widened his black eyes innocently. It _might_ have worked had not Raoul been taller than Jonathon and heavily muscled, with hamlike hands that would certainly crush any small childlike toy.

"_Why _did you not show up at the reception?" Jonathon demanded angrily, his blue eyes flashing.

Raoul glanced at the clock and grinned. "Really, Jon, temper, temper. I'm beginning to see why Alanna rejected you!"

Jon swelled indignantly. "She didn't reject me!" he protested. "She just...she just..._declined_..."

"Which basically means she trampled over your pride," Raoul replied wickedly. "I can't believe Thayet is going to marry you." He peered mock-suspiciously at his friend. "You haven't been using anything magic, have you?"

Jon sputtered incoherently, and then suddenly stopped. "You're trying to distract me!" he accused.

"You're smarter than you look," replied Raoul with a smirk. "Although the opposite is quite impossible..."

The King of Tortall resembled a tomato by this time. "_Goldenlake_," he stated threateningly.

The clock chimed and Raoul smiled sweetly. "Well, duty calls, _Your Highness._" The big knight seemed to take unholy glee from emphasizing the title, bowing to the shallowest degree, and watching his friend's face redden with rage as he sputtered. "The King's Own beckons!" He strolled off, whistling a tune innocently as his boots created dents in the floor.

Jon scowled after him, thinking hard; his eyes filled with a wicked gleam. "I know just how to pay back that backstabbing friend," he murmured to himself, fingers glowing with sapphire-blue magic. "At Gary and Cythera's wedding...oh, Raoul is going to be sorry."

* * *

A/N: People seem to want to know what exactly Kel used as blackmailing evidence - this is the first bit - and the second (and third?) parts should explain quite plainly. Oooh, I'm having tons of fun. Incidentally, Roald did have a crush on Kel during their page years, and I am being quite evil and not updating the Truth or Dare drabble just yet - unless I get tons of reviews. Just a quick teaser: Roald gets a most interesting dare, Merric gets pummeled, and Nealen of Queenscove is dared to sing a ballad to... Read and review please, everyone! 


	26. Truth or Dare 3

Disclaimer: I still do not own anything; everything belongs to Tamora Pierce.

**Prompt: Truth Or Dare 3**

"If you want to, you can make a will right now. No? Well then, I dare you to..." Dom paused for dramatic effect. "I think that it'll be more fun if I tell you alone," Dom remarked. "That way, it will be a good surprise for everyone else to watch..." Roald's blue eyes widened in horror as Dom leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"No!" he cried. "Anything but that! Anything!"

"Too bad," Dom smirked. "Do it."

Roald looked pleadingly at him. "Please? There has to be a law against sending the Crown Prince to his death!"

"Just do it!" Kel interjected. "Do it, Roald."

With the expression one normally wears when one is about to take on a manticore with nothing but a pretty hat, Roald left. He raced back a few minutes later, red in the face. "There! I did it!" he panted. "Now what?"

Dom smiled evilly. "Now we wait for the fireworks. Roald, it's your turn."

Roald sighed and turned to Merric. "Merric, truth or dare?"

Merric, having seen what Roald had to go through, gulped. "Truth."

Roald pounced. "Who do you like right now?"

The redheaded boy squirmed. "Um..."

"Go on!" urged Neal. "I want to know!"

"Flora?" Merric mumbled as his cheeks flushed red. Neal gasped and punched him in the face.

"You like my sister?" he howled in outrage, proceeding to pummel Merric like a pillow.

He was interrupted when the door flew off its hinges. Lord Raoul stood in the doorway, his expression deadly, his gaze smouldering. Everyone glanced at him and burst into laughter. Raoul's hair had been turned a bright cotton-candy pink, his skin was now a lovely shade of turquoise, his eyebrows were yellow, and his lips swelled to twice their normal size and cherry-red.

"Which of you did it?" he growled angrily. His pouting cherry lips set everyone off into gales of laughter; it is hard to inspire terror when one resembles a cross between cotton candy gone wrong and a clown. So he drew his sword and waved it about. Everyone sobered.

Neal decided that it was every knight for herself and jabbed a finger at Roald. "He did it!"

Roald quailed underneath the swinging blade. "It was a dare, milord!"

Raoul grimaced. "Take off the spell, now!" he demanded. "NOW!"

Roald squirmed again. "Um...it comes off in four days."

"WHAT?" Raoul roared. "FOUR DAYS!!!" He took a menacing step forward.

Kel decided to save her friend. She slipped out into the hallway and called, "Lady Liana!" The lady madly in love with Raoul's wealth looked up. "Come admire Lord Raoul's new look!"

"I'll get you for this, Mindelan!" Raoul cried as a swarm of captators hurried him off, chattering eagerly about how his eyebrows now complemented his eyes.

Kel just laughed. "Let's get on with the game!"


	27. Brother

Disclaimer: What an incredible shock - I _still _don't own anything. 

**Prompt: Brother**

The sky is cloudy and dark and the clouds thickly clustered and grey. Rain falls heavily. The beautiful place is deserted of visitors save for one girl. A beautiful girl no more than fifteen years old; with curly golden hair, wide blue eyes, and creamy skin she will be quite a belle at Court. The girl slowly walks through the flowers and shrubbery until she reaches a peaceful cluster where there stands a tombstone. Her mouth trembles softly; it is her brother's grave.

"Joren," she whispers as she places one hand on the cold stone. There is of course no reply. "I have missed you." Her blue eyes fill with tears as she notices that no flowers, no offerings, nothing adorns her brother's grave. "I have mised you so much."

Tears slowly slide down her pale cheeks as she continues to speak. "I'm sorry I have never come here, even though it has been four months since you...since you died. I couldn't bring myself to accept the truth." Actually, the girl wept and cried inconsolably at the news of losing her brother.

"I couldn't believe it at first. I couldn't believe that you had failed your Ordeal - you always seemed so kind and brave and the perfect knight. Then I was angry - angry at Father for not preventing it, at Lord Wyldon for not training you properly, and at Keladry of Mindelan..." She swallows hard and continues. "But then I realized that you weren't perfect, that you and I had both been raised so strictly, so firmly, that we have grown completely inflexible in our beliefs and acts. I realize that it is your fault, in a way, for being so passionate, so firm, so unyielding in what you believed in. You were wrong to do those things that you did. But it was also Father's fault, mostly, that the Chamber broke you." The girl's voice broke. "But I can't think that it was all your fault. I...can't help but think that had circumstances been different, you would have survived."

"I'm sad that you left, brother," she whispers numbly. "I miss you. I miss playing games with you, miss listening to you read aloud to me, miss talking with you, miss the way that you always made me feel safe, miss about a million things. I miss you so much, brother. But then I realized that you would have wanted me to learn from your mistakes, to do something more, and I have. I want to break free of this inflexibility, of this constrainment, and I will. I have joined the Queen's ladies, my brother, and I know that if you were here, you would be proud of me. You always were."

The rain falls more and more heavily, and the girl stares at her brother's plain grave. She moves to a cluster of roses and picks one delicate, fragrant rose, perfect in every way. Blood stains her satin sleeve as the thorn pricks her delicate hand; she ignores it as she inhales its sweet fragrance for a moment.

"I miss you, Joren; my friend, my brother." She gently places the rose on his grave.

She swears that she feels her brother's gentle hand caress her cheek for one lingering moment.

* * *

A/N: Oh dear what a dark and angsty fic. This has almost nothing to do with Tamora Pierce's stuff except for the fact that it's invented Joren's sister talking here. I wrote this because - bad me - I like Joren a lot. OK so I let my imagination go wild and make a fanciful and silly excuses for him, but I can't help it, and I wanted to see things from what someone close to him's point of view. Kind of pointless, but I like writing angsty, dark stuff. It's fun. And oh yeah I am evil. Thank you sooo much to all my lovely reviewers - please keep reading and reviewing! On another note, I do plan to keep up my Truth or Dare drabbles, as they are not quite finished _yet, _and I will be updating very soon my Evil Conniving King drabble. If you want to hear my take on Joren's Ordeal, please just go to my profile, and read and review! HP fans I beg of you to read my HP fics - I think I can update tomorrow or the day after at the latest. SS fans - did you hear that Sherwood Smith is going to be at California someplace for the weekend? Check it out at livejournal, Athanarel! Anyway, my birthday is in less than a week and I am SOOO excited! Later! 


	28. Truth or Dare 4

Disclaimer: My goodness the sky is going to fall down! I don't own anything because everything belongs to TP!

**Prompt: Truth Or Dare 4**

"Okay. Merric it's your turn to ask someone!" Neal announced with his usual flair.

Merric turned blue eyes onto the smiling (surprise surprise) Owen. Somebody was going to pay for the hell he would get when Flora found out Meathead knew about their romance. Owen would make a good dummy to vent on. "Owen, truth or dare?"

Owen smiled innocently. "Truth!" he cried. "Oh won't it be jolly!"

Merric's blue eyes glinted. "Who are _you_ madly in love with?" he wanted to know.

Owen's face fell and turned bright red. "This is _so _not jolly," he muttered.

Kel leaned forward, hazel eyes bright with curiosity. "Who _do_ you like, Owen?" she wanted to know. "Who?"

Dom nudged Roald and muttered something. The prince nodded and blue fire danced around his fingers.

"Margarry of Cavall," Owen blurted out, and all hell broke loose.

"The _Stump_'s daughter?" Seaver cried.

Neal cowered. "The Stump? Where is he? Hide me!" He dove behind Kel with a loud thump.

"You like Lord Wyldon's daughter?" Kel asked incredulously. "When did that happen?"

Owen blushed. "When I was training at Cavall. She's the jolliest girl ever!"

"At least he's half broken to bridle," Faleron murmured to Roald, who snorted with laughter.

"Let's get on with the game," he interjected. "Owen, it's you turn."

Owen smiled slyly. "Neal, truth or dare?

"Dare," replied the knight promptly.

"Tonight, I dare you to sing a romantic love ballad to Queen Thayet beneath her window."

"_What_?" Roald sputterd. He cooled down quickly as Kel murmured in his ear, hazel eyes dancing with laughter, and grinned. "Alright."

Neal - being Meathead - finally agreed. When the clock struck midnight the group led Neal into a part of the garden. They were staying at fief Dunlath for the time being - the whole Court was - so Neal followed obediently as Roald led the way. "There." Roald pointed to a window and gave Neal a push. "Sing, Neal."

So Neal warbled out the soppiest song the group had ever heard, about "Luscious lips of cherry red, beuaty rests upon your head...fingers so supple and slim...eyes so deep and enchanting...my love, my love, my love..." that had everyone rolling around laughing their heads off.

A light went on in Queen Thayet's room and the balcony door opened. A tall figure stepped out - even in the dark one could tell that this was no Queen, but a man. "Queenscove, is that you treating us to that...song?" The man asked in a cool, crisp voice that made everyone cringe - page habits die hard.

Neal paled. "The Stump," he whispered. "Oh damn."

* * *

A/N: TP says in Sheroes that Owen marries Margarry of Cavall, Wyldon's youngest daughter, so this pairing is strictly canon. Thank you to all my lovely reviewers! 


	29. Practise Makes Perfect

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own anything at all because (big surprise) everything still belongs to TP.

A/N: I haven't written for quite a while and I apologize to everyone. But my computer _would not_ cooperate with me. It deleted _all_ of my files for goodness's sake! IMy dad had to reload every program and I had to rewrite everything (to the best of my ability) so I apologize. Sorry. On another note it's my birthday today! I'm soooo excited! It would be a _really_ nice birthday present if people reviewed! Pretty please? Anyway, I realize that I'm probably not going to finish this by summer end so I'll be continuing it onto high school. Plus, would people like a seperate story on Niko and Eveline or should I keep them in my drabbles alone? About this drabble: Takes place right after the Kel and Alanna's duel scene in TC.

* * *

**Prompt: Practise Makes Perfect**

"A fine and stalwart effort, Protector of the Small," Domitan of Masbolle remarked as he passed Keladry of Mindelan his water bottle. Kel accepted it with a word of thanks and a jab of her elbow at his ribs.

"Thank you so much, Dom. I'm not three - I know when I'm being patronized. I've a way to go yet before I can best the Lioness," Kel commented as she sipped water.

Dom laughed. "Kel, if you were good at everything, then I would be frightened. Just imagine the disaster that would occur if you decided to leave Tortall and return to the Yamani Isles! Just think of it!"

Kel giggled. "You're being silly, Domitan of Masbolle." Her heart beat faster; she would never leave for the Yamani Isles, not while this extraordinary sergeant remained in Tortall. Kel tried to convince herself that it was a fleeting fancy, or the summer-love she had shared with Cleon. But her heart kept insisting that she truly was in love with Dom. _No,_ she told herself sternly._ He goes for fragile Court beauties who can flirt and have dowries, not _me.

"Why thank you very much," Dom replied dryly. "Kel? Do I need to tell Lord Raoul that his favorite knight is in need of Duke Baird? Or should I inform your father first?"

Kel blinked. "It's nothing," she lied. "I'm just thinking about my duel with Lady Alanna, that's all."

Dom chuckled. "Thinking about how you _lost_?" He ducked Kel's playful swat. "Really, Kel, I think that you hate losing way too much. Just think how bad it would be for your character if you got what you wanted all the time!"

The lady knight had to grin at this. "Then how would you suggest I improve my fencing skills, O Great Sage of Wisdom?" Kel asked sarcastically.

"By practising, of course," replied Dom promptly. Either he had been spending too much time with Meathead, or ignorance of sarcasm ran in the Queenscove and Masbolle lines. It would be the former, Kel decided. Whole families couldn't _all_ be insane, she thought, conveniently forgetting her own.

"Really."

"Yes," Dom insisted. A sly twinkle appeared in his bright blue eyes. "There's something else that you would do well to improve upon too, Lady Knight."

"Oh?" Kel asked nonchalantly. What was Dom going on about? She had a weird feeling about this...

Dom leaned in and kissed Kel on the mouth. "You need to improve your kissing skills," he murmured in her ear. "But I will help you with that."


	30. Evil Conniving Kings 2

Disclaimer: I'm a teenaged girl who hasn't published _anything_ - okay? Enough said.

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in ages - quite busy lately. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Okay I know I'm begging but please people read my Circle of Magic fic (it's Harry Potter just so you know and that's just the title) and review. I'm desperate - seriously I like that fic and anyone who reads and reviews it becomes my best friend! Enjoy! Please read and review!

* * *

**Prompt: Evil Conniving Kings**

Alanna crossed her arms over her chest as she scrutinized the man before her. "I don't know, Jon," she murmured innocently, "Why would I want to conspire against Raoul? He is my friend - and I hate social events too. Bloody conservatives..."

Jon was prepared for that, however."Because if you don't, I'll forbid you duelling anyone on personal grounds?"

The Lioness bowed down to Jon's superior power. "Alright, alright," she grumbled. "But if I help you with this particular nasty little plot, I had better gain something from it." Jon nodded. Her eyes lit up. "Oooh, can I bash a few conservative heads? Like Cavall?"

Jon might have been a bit of a snob, but he was quite intelligent. "We shall see," he replied. "It depends on how well you help me teach Lord Raoul of Goldenlake a lesson."

Alanna's violet eyes glinted. "Alright," she replied, extending her hand. Jon shook it, and they sealed their deal. But Jonathon of Conte really did not like the look in his (rejected, oh how that word stung) ex-lover's violet eyes. He hoped that Wyldon of Cavall had ordered a coffin already.

And he could only pray that Alanna wouldn't take it in to her head to bash _his_ head.

But it would be worth it. Raoul would get his much deserved come-uppance.

And so it transpired that, on the morning of the wedding of Lady Cythera of Elden and Sir Gareth of Naxen, Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and head of the King's Own woke up with a decidedly strange emotion thudding in his heart.


	31. Sunset

Disclaimer: If I owned anything I would have published something. Sadly I haven't.

A/N: Due to my friend's demand (and other requests) that I do another Eveline/Niko fic, I wrote this. I'm still debating on whether or not to turn Eveline/Niklaren into a full-time fic, because I do have a bit of a plot for a would-be story in mind. I still have to think about that, but in the mean time, enjoy this! Next drabble will be the final part of the Truth or Dare saga. Please read and review everyone!

* * *

**Prompt: Sunset**

Eveline looked inquiringly at the young man she saw as one of her greatest friends. "What?"

"Would you honor me with your presence on a walk tonight?" Niklaren asked in his usual courtier drawl. Eveline hated that drawl; Niklaren hid his feelings and thoughts too well and he was much too detached from the world. But she couldn't tell him that - despite his seemingly perfect life, she knew that her friend was fragile, and one false word, and he would break, retreating back into his customary oh-so-charming but oh-so-empty ways.

Eveline smiled. "Sure."

She questioned her own sanity that evening as she stumbled through the woods after Niklaren. The branches were low and she accidentally banged her head on one of them twice, making Niklaren laugh softly, Mithros curse him. Curse it, curse it, curse it! She tripped over the brambles. "Where are you taking me?"

But he just smiled enigmatically and led her out of the woods onto a grassy cliff. Eveline gasped in wonder as her eyes greedily drank in every detail. The cliff overlooked the sea, with its blue-green waves. The sky overhead was a magnificent hue of colors; light pink, light violet, pale blue, gold, orange, all streaked across the sky as a wonderful background to the glowing golden sun as it dipped into the waves, sending golden lights across the water.

"I come here a lot to think," he explained. "I found this place my first year at the Academy, and it's where I go when I need to be alone, to recollect my thoughts and to organize my emotions."

Eveline hated the matter-of-fact way in which he spoke, but couldn't help observing that he could scarcely have picked a more beautiful retreat. It was truly a place of magnificent beauty. "So why did you bring me here then?" she wanted to know.

Niklaren smiled. "So that we can enjoy the sunset together," he answered.

And the two nobles' slender forms sitting at the edge of the cliff complented the beautiful picture of nature as the golden sun sank into the blue-green waves against a background of many hues. It was indeed a wonderful sunset.


	32. Truth or Dare Finale

Disclaimer: I own something - _nothing_! Surprise surprise.

A/N: The last of my Truth or Dare saga. I think that I'm going to do colors next. Read and review please everyone! Enjoy.

* * *

**Prompt: Truth or Dare Finale**

_Neal paled. "The Stump," he whispered. "Oh damn."_

As Neal saw his own life flashing before him as one does before death, his (faithless) friends began to chortle and to choke with laughter. "Meathead - you are so gullible!" Dom gasped as tears gathered in his blue eyes. "How could you have believed such a _stupid_ thing?" Kel demanded as she doubled over in mirth.

A light flickered on in "Queen Thayet's" window and the slim figure of a woman appeared.

Neal's horror made him ramble - he had still not quite regained use of his brain. "You don't think the Queen is having an affair with the _Stump_!" he squawked as he turned five shades of white. Roald flushed and had to be reminded quietly by Merric that this was Meathead talking here.

"Wyldon, what is going on?" inquired the woman as the balcony light went on. The woman was tall and slim, with creamy white skin, warm brown eyes, and glossy chestnut brown curls. She was very beautiful, but definitely no Thayet. Her brown eyes crinkled with amusement. "Need I be worrying that you have a love-struck lover hidden away?"

"That's Lady Vivenne!" whispered Owen. "The Stump's wife!"

"The Stump is _married_?" Neal blurted in horror. "Who would be so insane?"

"Very interesting, Queenscove," Lord Wyldon remarked coolly. "I see that you are not only bent on inter - disturb - _waking_ us in the middle of the night, but you are also bent on insulting me to my face." His cold eyes somehow held a fiery blaze; Neal thought that the Tartarus of the Black God's realm surely could not be so fiery. He gulped audibly.

"Is that you, Prince Roald?" Wyldon called crisply. "King's Reach? Jesslaw? Hollyrose?" His voice grew glacial. "My office. Now."

Kel felt a tug on her sleeve and turned; Dom stood before her. "Let's get out of here," he suggested. She nodded fervently in agreement and they slipped back to their "truth-or-dare" room. Dom grinned wickedly at Kel. "They're in for it!"

She giggled. "True. Neal will get pain beaten into his head tomorrow when Yuki finds out about all this." Her face grew serious as she studied him. "That was a clever trick of yours," she commented casually, "with Meathead's dare."

He smiled back. "It seems clever now, but in actuality, it was pure genius. I'm probably the smartest man you'll ever meet."

She punched him playfully on the arm. "But not the most humble!" she teased.

Dom grinned. "You keep me humble, O Protector of the Small. A man would have to be insane not to be in love with you," he joked, but Kel felt a flash of pain at his teasing words. "What do you say we play one last round?"

"Alright," Kel agreed. "Truth or Dare?"

"After my previous experience with dares, I believe I will opt for truth?"

Kel sighed and braced herself for his crushing answer. "Who are you in love with?" she wanted to know.

Dom's bright blue eyes met her wide hazel ones steadily. "The girl standing right in front of me," he whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse. But he felt relieved - he had waited for so _so_ long to say this. Dom always flirted as much as he breathed, but it was only when he saw Cleon of Kennan and Kel together and felt for the first time the pangs of jealousy that he realized what the young warrior meant to him.

She stared at him in shock and surprise; delight racing through her veins. Somehow, she managed to pull herself together and smile at him. "I believe that it is your turn, Sir Domitan," she replied smoothly, ignoring her pounding heart. "And I choose dare."

Dom's grin widened. "I dare you to kiss me," he whispered. "On the lips."

Kel now felt her heart slamming against her ribcage as she leaned in and complied. The first kiss the two shared was innocent and sweet; then Dom deepened the kiss, his hands sliding around her waist as her fingers curled around strands of his dark hair.

Years later, Domitan and Keladry of Masbolle would readily agree that Truth or Dare was the best game that they had ever played. As for Cleon, Roald, Merric, Faleron, Seaver, Owen (who had to endure Margarry's delighted teasing) and of course our darling Meathead, Truth or Dare left scars on them forever. Every one of them would forever remember the horror of having to sing that soppy love ballad to Lord Padraig haMinch at Court the next day, in front of everyone, Lord Wyldon having taken a lesson from King Jonathon on underhandness. But still, every year without fail, the group of friends would gather in a small room and there would be Owen's jolly cry of -

"Truth or Dare?"


	33. Duty

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.

A/N: I know that I was going to do colors next but I was bored yesterday and so picked up Terrier. I really enjoyed Tunstall and Lady Sabine together and wanted to write something about them. If people like it then I will write more romance and less angst about them. Please read and review! Enjoy!

* * *

**Prompt: Duty**

"Sabine," he pleaded even as he knew his begging was futile. Whenever she made up her mind, it was made up, and nothing - short of Mithros or the Goddess descending down to order her or the King ordering her - would change it. It was one of the things that he loved and hated about her - right now, he definitely hated it.

The attractive young woman who was breaking his heart drew herself up as she flicked her glossy brown hair impatiently away from her face. "No, Tunstall," she replied firmly. "No. I've made up my mind."

Any other time Tunstall would have joked about that statement, but not this time. "Sabine," he began again.

The lady knight cut him off. Her dark brown eyes were glittering dangerously in the light. "_No_, Tunstall," she snapped angrily. "I've got to marry Joreth or my people will suffer this winter."

"Your brother's people!" Tunstall contradicted. He knew that it was heartless and selfish of him to put his finger on the line seperating her duties and her desires and forcing her to choose, but what choice had he left? He couldn't lose her.

Sabine's dark eyes blazed with anger. "My people too," she whispered fiercely. "My people too." With an effort, the young noblewoman reined in her emotions. "I have to marry - and marry well - or my people will starve this winter. Joreth is my close friend and a good man; he is wealthy and doesn't mind that I have scarcely any dowry. The King himself approves and suggested this match. I _have_ to go through with it."

"Don't do this," Tunstall whispered. "Leave your noble cage and fly free. If you marry Sir Joreth you'll lose all freedom that you have, everything that you love. Don't do this, Sabine. Don't throw your life away for your brother." Choose, he insisted inwardly, between duty and desire. Choose.

For a moment Sabine hesitated, torn between the two; then her lips tightened. "I cannot," she replied quietly. "I have a duty to my people and I _will do it._" She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Tunstall staring brokenhearted after her, at the fiercely independent and carefree young woman who had chosen duty over desire.


	34. A Challenge

**Prompt: A Challenge**

"I really couldn't say," Alianne of Pirate's Swoop and Olau replies archly, lowering her long lashes in a mockery of demureness. Aly's hazel-green eyes glow with laughter as she exchanges a glance with her best friend. Eveline of Naxen's mouth twitches slightly as she smoothes her skirts with languid grace. "I really couldn't say," Aly insists again. "It is _so_ hard to decide, boys, you must understand."

Squire Terence of Meron leans forward eagerly. "You must pick one of us, Lady Alianne," he replies. "One of us simply _must_ have the honor of escorting you to the Midwinter Ball."

"Yes," agrees another squire as he casts a jealous glare at the handsome Terence. "You must honor one of us." This results in fervent agreements from the assembled squires as they all attempt to look honest and trustworthy. "You cannot pick a _page_ to escort you - they are so childish and silly!" Ignoring the fact that Aly's own twin brother is a page and being totally tactless. Aly experiences a brief quirk of anger.

But she merely smiles coyly and shrugs. "Must I?"

"Really Aly!" Eveline laughs after the crowd of boys have departed. "I will never understand why they always throng around you so, as if you are the only maiden who exists in Tortall! I love you, you know, but I would not be fool enough to dance to your tune if I knew that I had no chance. Why do they seek love from you so earnestly?" wonders the girl who has declared never to fall in love.

"Because they know that you will go to every ball with Domitan of Masbolle - who is gorgeously handsome, I grant you - and have given up hope on you because of your childish insistence that you will give your heart to no one. So they transfer all of their affections for you to me, your best friend. Thank you very much, by the way. I do so enjoy being given leftovers by my best friend. Besides," she tosses her gleaming hair, "We _are_ the prettiest girls at Court."

"So much for modesty," teased her friend. "And Dom and I are just friends. I mean, he's a flirt who never likes anyone long enough to actually dally, and I hate flirting but need a partner for the dances. So we picked each other in a mutual agreement that no flirtations will arise from it, no problems, and certainly _no _romance."

Aly grins wickedly. "Are you sure?"

Eveline smiles. "Yes, I am. I want to study and practice my magic, and go to a good mage school, Aly. I certainly don't want to fall in love."

"At least you have someone interesting to talk to!" Aly complains. Ignoring her friendis protests to the contrary, she continues mercilessly. "They all practically worship the ground I walk on! They acceede to my every whim and wish! Dom gives you witty conversation and makes you laugh! All the boys just stare at me stupidly and ask me what _I_ want!"

"Because it is so disagreeable to be the most popular girl at the ball," returns her friend dryly. "And you hate it _so_ much."

"Well it is!" Aly replies. "None of them present the slightest challenge!"

Eveline smiles mischievously. "I have an idea."

"Oh no," mumbles Aly.

"_Asinus_," answers her best friend without rancour. "I think I may know someone who will present more of a challenge for you. Someone who doesn't worship the ground you walk on. Someone who is probably one of the most gorgeous young men at Court. Someone who will give you more than a bit of a challenge."

Aly smiles. "Who?" she asks eagerly.

Eveline grins. "I bet you couldn't get him to escort you to the Midwinter Ball!" Now Eveline might be totally averse to romance and utterly transfixed by scholarship - which is why Aly once caught her in the library talking earnestly about Emry of Haryse, for Mithros's sake, with Sir Myles of Olau - but she had a great love for fun and disaster. Her quick mind weaving the plan, the girl struggles with her inner mirth as she attempts to imagine the possible outcomes to this fun. Her grin widens.

Aly frowns. "I bet I could. Who is it?"

"Will you do it?" her friend wanted to know.

"Who is it?" Aly demanded. Besides Domitan of Masbolle - whom she studiously stayed away from - she had never met a boy outside her family who could resist her.

Eveline's eyes dance with mischief and laughter. "Squire Joren of Stone Mountain."

* * *

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm so sorry that I have vanished for so long, but high school just started, and I'm only in Grade Eight, so I really needed a month off to get to know everything about my school and get off to a fantastic start. I hope you all like this new saga; I was just having fun imagining Aly and Joren dancing together and Lord Burchard exploding. So what will happen? Will Lord Burchard explode? This isn't an AU, because it _is_ possible, but what happens? Will Joren look twice at Aly? Review and you will find out! I will try to update more regularly. Thank you to everyone for reading my fic and reviewing! Please read and review! Enjoy! 


	35. Evil Conniving Kings 3

**Prompt: Evil Conniving Kings 3**

"Is everything ready?" Jon asked anxiously.

Alanna rolled her eyes. "Yes, Your Highness, everything is ready."

King Jonathon of Conte grinned devilishly. "Raoul won't know what hit him."

* * *

Lord Raoul of Goldenlake had a terrible headache. It might have been dodging the pretty little Hollyrose girl all night and having her run after her crying something awful. It might have been listening to Jon ramble on about state affairs. But it was probably a hangover from drowning his sorrows with Gary the night before. It had been his duty as a friend to "drink to the last night of freedom and bachelorhood" as Gary had put it. Raoul groaned. _Ouch_. 

But there was no way he could skip out on the wedding; Gary would flip. And come after him with a very big sword. Perhaps with _Duke Gareth_ after him. Nope, could not let that happen.

Raoul dragged himself out of bed and began dressing, when a knock came at the door. "Softly!" he begged.

Alanna walked in, a knowing smile on her face. "Hangover?" she surmised shrewdly. Raoul nodded pathetically, and she laughed and handed him a pill. "Take this and it'll be gone within the hour," she promised. Raoul didn't notice Alanna's pitying smirk as he ate it. It would be gone all right, and Raoul would have much bigger things to worry about.

* * *

The wedding ceremony was over. A blushing but pleased Cythera kissed a supremely delighted Gary in front of a large bunch of friends. Raoul smiled, congratulated his friend, and then resolved to slip away unnoticed before the dancing - either that, or create a large fashionable lump in the middle of a hanging. He groaned softly as a large crowd of ladies cut of his escape route to the hanging. _Damn! _He moved hurriedly around them - _bang_! He felt himself fall forward - almost as if propelled by magic, which was absurd - and onto the slender figure of a Court lady. 

Down the slender lady went, with Raoul on top of her, in a flurry of skirts and flailing limbs. Amazingly, the lady breathed still despite the ton of muscle crushing her body, and managed to gasp, "Forgive me, my lord, for crashing into you with such haste!" And astoundingly, no one else in the ballroom seemed to notice! Gary was laughing with Cythera on his arm, and everywhere around them the nobles began to dance. And it _couldn't_ have anything to do the lady knight with purple magic sparkling at her fingertips, or the maniacally cackling King. Nope, nothing at all.

Now thoroughly embarrassed, Raoul hurriedly removed himself from the Court lady. "I'm so sorry," he sputtered, blushing. "Forgive me, my lady - all you alright?" He hurriedly extended a hand to help her up, which the lady shyly took with a gloved hand.

"No, it is my fault," the lady murmured, as Raoul pulled her none too gracefully up, glancing up at himthrough her lashes. "I have always been clumsy and unaccomodating, but to think that I would cause such distress to the Commander of the King's Own!" Raoul thought he heard a muffled sob and instantly panicked.

Mithros help him! He was fearless with knights and warriors alike, could listen to the most bawdy jokes with amusement, and nothing steel, metal, or even remotely sharp frightened him a whit. But threaten him with a quivering chin, trembling lips, or tear filled eyes, and you would have Lord Raoul of Goldenlake on his knees begging you to stop. What was it about girls that made their crying so damn_...pitiable_?

So Raoul said the first thing that came into mind, the first thing that he thought might comfort her, might ease her distress. "Um...I love your dress," he complimented awkwardly.

Huh?

But the lady looked up at him tremulously, her lashes fluttering, a weak smile on her lips. "Do you really think so?" she asked tentatively.

But Raoul was staring at her soft lips, at the glossy auburn hair done up in an elegant knot with tendrils curling around her face, at the dark green eyes, filled with sweetness and gentleness, with his mouth open and his eyes round. He _knew _this girl! "_Lady Roxanne_?" he asked in utter astonishment.

Oh, Mithros.

* * *

A/N: I hope that makes up for the long wait! I'm so sorry, but my computer is an absolute pest, and I have a lot of homework to attend to. This is my longest drabble ever, I think! And yes, Lady Roxanne is back at Court with a vengeance, and she and Raoul are going to have a lot of fun together. cough cough It is a wedding celebration, with plenty of wine and things that cause people to fall into a fervor and do things they might later regret. I hope you guys love this chapter. Please read and review! 


	36. Right Before Your Eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my own opinion.

**Prompt: Right Before Your Eyes**

Duke Mequen Balitang pressed his fingers to throbbing temples; already he was weary of the haughty glamor of Court. He hadn't wanted to attend this ball in the first place, weighed down by grief, but had obeyed Aunt Nuritan because he knew it was his duty. It had been ages since Sarugani had gone to the Black God's realm and yet he still recalled her lilting laughter so clearly. How could he enjoy the careless flirtation he had once indulged in when he remembered so vividly her scorn for such "degrading" pastimes? Yet he knew in his heart that it was his duty to marry again.

But Mequen's gaze harden as his eyes swept over the simpering girls in low-cut gowns. They were all so superficial and petty! How he be expected to...

"Your Grace," a soft, melodious voice brought him from his reverie. Mequen looked down into the beautiful hazel eyes of Lady Winnamine Fonfala. He remembered her as a young girl who had befriended his often lonely wife with fondness, but that spirited girl had blossomed into a lovely young woman. She was tall and slim, her glossy brown hair stylishly done up in a tumble of curls, her smooth white skin accented by the dark blue silk of her gown. She curtsied.

Mequen bowed and kissed her fingertips. "Lady Winnamine. A pleasure."

Winnamine smiled. "Thank you, Your Grace," she murmured. "I have not seen you at Court?"

Mequen stiffened. "I have not experienced that pleasure for a long time," he replied brusquely. Sarugani had not curbed his temper nor his pride, the armor he wore to protect himself had doubled since her death, and any mention of Sarugani made his heart ache and his temper flare. "Ever since my lady Sarugani..." He stopped talking abruptly and made to leave, rudeness be hanged.

But the young lady touched his sleeve gently. "Forgive me. I am sorry of your loss," she whispered. Mequen saw sincere remorse in her large eyes and remembered guiltily that she had been Sarugani's greatest friend. "I cared deeply for Lady Sarugani. She was very kind to me."

"Forgive my rudeness," Mequen replied awkwardly. "I did not choose to be here..."

"So I heard," Winnamine replied humorously. "Few have not heard of your aunt's outburst, Your Grace, and those who have lost their hearing to her rants would rather not."

Mequen smiled despite himself. "My aunt has a talent for ruining the hearing of others," he agreed. Seeing a particularly ambitious lady make her way toward him, he winced. "May I offer you my company on a stroll in the gardens?"

Winnamine smiled knowingly. "Should I feel honored that you singled me out, Your Grace, or just that you favored me over Lady Adonia?"

"I fear that was _not_ honorably done, my lady, and I beg your forgiveness," Mequen replied, feeling his spirits lift as it had not done in a long time. Winnamine was pert and lively as Sarugani, but gentler and sweeter, and being with her made him feel relaxed, eased the pain from his heart. "But _would _you like to go on a walk?"

"If it a sincere offer, then yes," Winnamine answered softly as she forced herself not to blush.

"It is, my lady," Meqeun replied honestly and offered his arm. Winnamine placed her slender hand lightly on his, and together the two made their way through the crowded room outside into the beautifully arranged gardens.

"Are the gardens not beauitful?" Winnamine exclaimed with pleasure.

"I have never thought them so," Mequen replied in some surprise. "Only as a haven to which I can escape from captators." And it was true. Mequen had admired the beauty of young maidens with his friend Rubinyan before he met Sarugani, and took pleasure in viewing exquisite jewelry or the loveliness of the written word, but a garden?

She smiled at him. "But look at this moonflower! Its color is blue and one could not say where the color changes, but it melts from light to dark, blending so wonderfully! And it is a most fragrant flower! I think that there is so much beauty in nature that we sometimes forget, caught up with court intrigues and politics, so I try to distance myself from all that and enjoy what has been granted to us so graciously!"

Mequen smiled back, appreciating the beauty of the flower, but more won over by Winnamine's sweet declaration. She was so without guile or pretense - so honest and true. Mequen joined Winnamine on a stroll, and together they chatted easily of happy things, her kindness setting him at ease. He realized with surprise that he was enjoying himself, and that his heart beat faster whenever she smiled at him.

Love is a strange thing; it can be fleeting and sudden or gradual and lasting. Love can be bestowed where it will; it can take its time to make itself known to a man and to make the target of that love known. It can remain hidden in pain and grief and not be recognized for a long time. Even if the lady that you love is right before your eyes.


	37. Observers

Disclaimer: I am neither the author nor the publisher and therefore I own _nada_.

A/N: I hope that everyone is having a fantastic holiday and are all gorging yourselves silly on fabulous Christmas goodies right now! This drabble focuses more on the secondary characters in my Eveline/Niko arc but Kore and Keith actually have very substantial parts in my actual story that I have planned. I introduce Keith in this drabble: he is the heir of a duke and also studying to be a mage as well as Kore's love interest. Kore is Eveline's best friend and calls her "Evey"; she also has important connection. I hope that you guys all enjoy this drabble and get some awesome presents under the tree tomorrow! Merry Christmas everyone!

* * *

**Prompt: Observer**

Kore glances in barely concealed amusement at the two figures hunched over their work on the grass nearby. She flicks her pale blond hair away from her face; her mouth quirks in delight as she turns her sparkling eyes onto her companion. Keith smiles and begins combing out her silky hair with his fingers. She leans against his chest and enjoys the warmth of sunshine on her face.

"We should get working on our project as well," Keith reminds her without any real conviction.

Kore smiles lazily. "I _am_ working on a project."

Keith lifts a brow quizzically. "Oh? Pray enlighten your humble servant."

"You should be a hairdresser, Keith, not a mage. My project," she continues over his indignant protests, "is observing Niko and Evey working on their project while trying to hide their growing attraction to each other."

"Attraction? My dear sweet Kore, Niklaren fa Chemain has _never_ crushed on anyone to my knowledge." Keith assumed a smug air. "And he tells _everything_ to his best friend.

"Some things are observed and not confided. And there's a first for everything: male hairdressers for example. Just look at them." Kore gestured to the two students working diligently. Eveline is sprawled on the grass, idly twirling her golden curls as she scribbles away with a quill. Niko is leaning against a tree, his brilliant eyes veiled as he experimented with a golden flymae.

"Well, they seem suited for each other. She's beautiful and he's handsome. She's intelligent and he's brilliant. She's got style and he's got wealth. She's polite and he's genteel. They're both highborn and skilled at double-edged talk. I would be hardpressed to find a better suited couple. Except for us, of course," he adds, stroking her pale hair, and musing how very strange life can be. She nods her assent.

Kore smiles devilishly. "I remember that she told me on her first day here that she wasn't about to fall for Niko like all the others. I really liked her from the moment I met her, and I didn't want her breaking her heart over Niko like all the other females at this Academy, so I even gave her a friendly warning and _told_ her straight off that he never pays attention to any girl. I guess I was wrong. Big time."

Keith kisses her fingertips. "Don't be sad, my love, you were wrong about me as well, thank Mithros."

She looks up at him and smiles pertly. "Yes, and I am glad that I was." She laces her fingers through his, relaxing as she turns back to the other couple in time to see Eveline reaching out her hand as if to touch the preoccupied Niko's fingers, then dropping it quickly. Her amusement rises as Niko glances down at the blushing Eveline who has quickly begun scribbling away again and gently sets the golden flymae down beside her. Kore closes her eyes and enjoys the sunshine, the happiness of knowing that the man she loves loves her in return, and the sweetness of triumph. Nothing can prevent her from gloating over just how amusing it is that it is a pretty and feisty Tortallan girl who has finally won over the heart of her stoic and utterly oblique older brother - except -

"Ouch. Tangle."


	38. Breaking Hearts

A/N: The theme for this drabble might be familiar to some who enjoy watching the Tudors. But when my friend pressured me to watch that one scene I really enjoyed it and wanted to do the same thing for Kalasin of Conte. I wanted to show how much Kally was hurt when her father betrothed her to a man she had never even met without thinking she might have her own sweetheart. I hope I got the message across, and while this drabble isn't original, I really like the idea.

Disclaimer: The characters and plot are Tamora Pierce's creation; the foundation of the scene came from the Tudors.

* * *

**P****rompt: Breaking Hearts**

"Happy Midwinter!" Aly cried exuberantly. She offered Kally a package wrapped in blue velvet. The Conte princess smiled as she carefully undidt the ribbons to reveal a stunning diamond-and-sapphire necklace glowing against the velvet.

"It's so beautiful!" Kally whispered in awe. "I'm sorry, Aly, that my gift does not match yours."

Aly laughed. "I love my new mare. She is beautiful and I will enjoy riding her."

"Allow me to grant you a promise," Kally insisted stubbornly. "You deserve it."

"Very well," Aly agreed. "Promise me that you won't break any more hearts. My brother Thom tells me that all the young men are languishing for love for _you_. I want the title of heartbreaker to be mine when I'm older and I'm sure that it will be great fun. Maude is threatening to start me on more complex embroidery the year after next and I'll need pleasant distractions." She giggled.

Kally thoguht of the young man she was in love with who loved her back. Her father had married for love; she would do the same. She smiled. "I promise not to break any more hearts, Aly," she pledged, her own heart filled with love and hope for the future.

* * *

_A year later:_

"Whenever I see you my world shines with light; and I am filled with absolute and pure delight. But when I get closer I don't know what to say; even when you greet me your eyes slide away. Tell me what I did not do right yesterday; tell me how to make everything all okay."

Alfaric of Hiaotune jumped gracefully from the tree branch where he had leaned and walked over to the slender figure lying on the grass. "Did you enjoy that?" he inquired.

Kalasin of Conte half-smiled. She looked absolutely stunning; her glossy black hair spread out on the emerald green grass and her pure blue eyes half closed. "Am I supposed to enjoy something that accuses me of being an ice-hearted girl?"

"You are an ice-hearted girl," Alfaric replied softly. "And you are a thief. You stole my heart from me and I do not know how to ever get it back again. I can only hope that you take care of my heart instead of breaking it."

The princess's blue eyes flickered and her mouth twisted down. When Alfaric gently brushed his fingers against her cheek, she turned her head away from his touch. "Don't."

His voice was gentle but sad. "I was correct in my guess. You _are _planning to break my heart. You're leaving." His fingers traced the outline of her lips and this time she did flinch away. "Have I done something wrong? How have I angered you?"

Kalasin sat up abruptly, furious with Alfaric for being so sweet when she wanted him to be nasty so she could feel justified in leaving, and furious with herself that she cared so much about him when she had known all along that romance for royals was a tricky thing, and yet also furious with herself that she was letting him go so easily. Her cheeks flushed and hot guilt and shame flooded through her. But she wouldn't let him see that. "My Father has betrothed me to the Emperor of Carthak."

"So you will marry him?" Alfaric demanded. "After you told me that you loved me?"

"Stop it!" she cried angrily. Her blue eyes blazed. It was impossible to tell whether from fury or tears. "You have no claim on me! All I did was dance with you, and talk with you, and flirt with you. What we shared was nothing more than a playful flirtation; _nothing _more. Do you understand that?"

"I understand that you told me that you loved me when I kissed you and now you tell me that you're leaving me for the Emperor of Carthak!" Alfaric retorted heatedly. "Are you saying that you don't care about my feelings? That it was just a flirtation to you, and now we are going to part amicably on both sides with pleasant smiles, and you can move on with you _wonderful _life?"

The princess stood. "Yes," she rapped out harshly. She hated herself for being so hateful, so cruel, to the man that she loved. But maybe if _she_ was unpleasant and hateful then he would hate her. Although she knew it would tear her up inside to think that he detested her, although she knew her broken heart would smash into millions of pieces, she thought that she could do it because it would be a clean break of Alfaric, and he could then move on. "Don't you _dare_ speak with me again. I entered into a flirtation with you for fun. But I'm not having fun anymore. You just stay away from me, Alfaric of Hiaotune!"

With that she whirled around and strode away from him, tears streaming down her ivory cheeks, biting her ruby lip so hard that it drew blood, her heart wrenching as he called, "Are you so heartless to the man who loves you and so eager to leave him for your wealthy Emperor?" She almost staggered from the pain.

Princesses should not break oaths. But Princess Kalasin of Conte had done so. She had broken two hearts. Yet she was not afraid of any punishment that Mithros or the Goddess might dole out for breaking her promise. What could hurt her more than she had already been hurt when one of the hearts she had broken was her own and the other that of the man she loved most in the world?


	39. Lord Isas

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for my own ideas and opinion.

A/N: Idea that popped into my head. Enjoy and please review!

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**Prompt: Lord Isas**

Niva smoothed down the folds of her dress nervously and stepped out into view. "Do I look alright?"

Isas, stunningly resplendant in dark blue velvet trimmed with silver, glanced up from his place by her door. His jaw dropped. Niva wore her auburn hair pinned up in a tumble of curls that brushed her bare sholders and an emerald-green dress closely fitted to her slim body. He swallowed. She looked like a _lady_.

The rose quickly showed her thorns. "It's rude to stare," she snapped tartly. "And it was _your_ idea to get me trussed up in this ridiculous gown. _You _wanted me to accompany you to your charming hostess, Countess of Lorvue's party, so that you wouldn't get slaughtered by matchmaking mamas. If you don't like the way I look, you can go by yourself." Niva turned swiftly and made to leave, angry with herself. She knew that Isas had never thought her pretty, and yet...

Isas grabbed her elbow. "I apologize for my rudeness," he replied charmingly. "You look like a rose in bloom, my dear." Niva blushed as he offered her his arm. "Shall we? Oh, and Niva, do try not to show your thorns tonight. I do not think Father would like it if blood got on any of the other courtiers' fabulous silks and satins."

When they reached the palace of the Countess of Lorvue it was Niva's turn to gape. It was huge and elegant and impossibly grand. Suddenly she felt about as significant as an ant, and the well-woven fabric she had liked so much suddenly felt dirty and inferior compared to the quiet rustles of expensive silk as Isas moved beside her. But she had promised Isas that she would go, and after so much tumult in the past year, so many breaks in their friendship, she just wanted things to go back to what it used to be. Niva squared her shoulders and walked with Isas to greet their hostess.

The Countess was a beautiful woman in royal blue silk. "Lord Isas!" she exclaimed delightedly, moving to kiss his cheek.

The young man smiled. "Countess. You look absolutely stunning tonight. Is the Emperor coming to call?"

"Oh, you impudent scamp!" she swatted his shoulder playfully. Niva bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from acidly pointing out that Isas was much too young for her, but her tart humor died when the Countess turned to her with a slight frown. "And this is...?" she asked pointedly.

Isas glanced at his friend's stony face and sighed. "My dear friend, Niva Flickerrose, a student with me at Lightbridge."

Niva felt her best friend's slight hesitation and understood immediately. Whatever his feelings when he had asked her, Isas was obviously thinking differently. She scanned the room, noting the incredible beauties in low-cut gowns fluttering their long lashes at him. She saw the dirt under her long nails and blushed. When she glanced up, she was alone. Isas, looking slightly cowed and slightly flattered, had been towed toward the crowd of simpering girls by the Countess, who were all curtsying prettily and murmuring "Lord Isas".

Niva waited beside the refreshments. Waiting for Isas to come and get her, to introduce _her_ to everyone as well, to talk with her. But he never got a chance. The girls were all over her best friend, and uncomfortable at first, he was relaxing under their sugary flattery and honeyed words. Niva saw one exceptionally exquisite girl giggling as she stretched out a hand to her friend, and her throat tightened as he accepted with a smile. "Lord Isas!" she cooed as she led him past Niva. Isas didn't even glance at her as, with a bemused expression, he followed the girl to a secluded alcove.

Finally Niva had had enough. She fled outside to the cool night air, her cheeks flushed and hot, her breath coming out in short gasps. Where was Isas? He certainly wasn't inside. The Isas she knew wore plain clothing like her, talked about plants and herbology like her, was friendly and courteous to everyone, including her, and would _never _flirt with anyone! That courtier in resplendant velvet, with his elegant, beringed fingers, who had conversed about Dancruan silks, and flirted with pretty girls and disappeared with one, was Lord Isas, not her best friend. Niva had a feeling that _Isas_ was gone forever.

_Lord Isas._ _Lord Isas._ _Lord Isas._


	40. Comfort

Disclaimer: Time passes but I still do not own anything.

A/N: I guess I've been feeling a little angsty lately. This came out after watching a few sad movies and listening to a few beautiful but heartbreaking songs; especially if the music videos are as good as Michael Wong's. The reason Eveline is upset during this drabble is because she just received a letter from her father telling her that Alianne of Pirate's Swoop has disappeared. But this will be the last sad drabble for a while! The next drabble will be a happy one! Honestly! I hope you guys enjoy this!

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**Prompt: Comfort**

"Evey?"

"Go away."

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"It is _not _nothing," Niklaren insisted. "What's wrong?"

Eveline wiped her eyes and whirled around to face him on the balcony. "I'm fine! Leave me alone!"

Niklaren caught her hands in his. "Eveline. Why are you acting like this? What happened? You can tell me."

"What if I don't _want_ to tell you?" she fired back. She was disgusted with herself to find those blasted tears streaming down her cheeks again. Why did they just keep coming back? Eveline clenched her hand; crumpled the stained piece of parchment she held. "What if I just want you to get the Chaos away from me!"

He flinched and let go of her hands as though her touch suddenly burned. "Eveline," he whispered. "This isn't like you. Tell me what's wrong. Please?"

Eveline's cold composure cracked and crumbled. Her shoulders shook as she began sobbing brokenly into her hands. Niklaren hesitated only a moment before slipping his arms around her. She cried onto his shoulder, her whole body trembling.

"Eveline? Please tell me what's wrong."

She didn't reply; her tears came faster and harder than ever. Niklaren stroked her hair comfortingly, letting her cry. Suddenly, Eveline pushed herself from him to look up into his face. Her glossy hair tumbled wildly about her tear-stained face, her soft lips trembled, and her large eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "Niko, you won't ever leave me, will you?" Her shaking voice cracked on the last word. "No matter what might happen?"

Niklaren tightened his grip around the girl he loved. "No, Eveline," he swore. "Never."


	41. Reincarnation

Disclaimer: Still do not own anything.

A/N: Feeling slightly less angsty than usual; I also promised to write a happy drabble for once. As I was scrolling through my stories I realized that I had not written anything about Daine and Numair! So this drabble is for Daine/Numair lovers and for everyone who's stuck by me and my story for so long. Thank you all so much!

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**Prompt: Reincarnation**

"Do you know the meaning of reincarnation?"

The beautiful black cat rolls its turquoise eyes. "You're going to tell me, I'm sure."

The mage fondles the cat's ears fondly even as his eyes light up with scholarly craze. "It is the theory that the soul of a being, upon death, will dwell in the Peaceful Realms. If he or she is deemed worthy, or just out of the ordinary, the soul will return to the Mortal Realms in another body or form, with no recollection of his or her previous life."

The cat purrs contentedly. "You believe that?"

"Why not? Could it not be possible that you and I have lived several lives before, together, and that we just can't remember?"

"Not likely. I would always remember you."

He smiles lovingly at the cat. "If for some reason you were unable to return in human form, I think that you would come back as a cat, Magelet. Clever and subtle but loyal and fierce. Cats make their own way in life, and rise due to their own abilities. They don't need anyone except themselves."

The cat shifts under his hand, gazing up at the mage seriously. "I need _you_."

"Well," the mage replies with wry humor. "Maybe I'll come back as catnip."


End file.
